


The Folly of Fate

by leoji_is_life (CynicalMistrust)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythical Creatures, Angst, Domestic, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Established Yuuri/Viktor, F/F, Fluff, Happy ending - promise, Implied Mpreg, Kitsune, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, leoji, like setting a wet rope on fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalMistrust/pseuds/leoji_is_life
Summary: Guang-Hong - heir to his family's underground vigilante syndicate - is chosen as a sacrifice to the gods, but what that entails, no one seems to fully understand. What exactly is waiting for him in the heart of the forest?(Or - The Mythical Creatures AU Absolutely No-one but the Author Asked For)***His dreams were chaotic, filled with fire and smoke and blood, the screams of human and kitsune alike echoing in his ears. Interspersed with them were images of gold-touched eyes and brown hair, a quiet laugh, hesitant touches, rain in the leaves, a night sky filled with shooting stars, dancing to the soft, mournful melody of a flute beneath moonlight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at an actual multi-chapter fic in a while, at least one with a plot outside of smut. ;p
> 
> Was debating on even posting this until I finished writing, but figured I'd post in celebration of my fave boy's bday :3
> 
> Also - everyone is basically aged up 5 years.

Guang-Hong peeked out the window of the carriage as it slowed, staring at the lush forest stretched out around them. Three days ago he'd still been at home, studying and training to take over his family's business; if an underground vigilante syndicate could _really_ be called a business.

A week ago, he learned he'd been chosen as the next sacrifice to the gods of the forest. “Sacrifice” was a general term that seemed to change meanings each time a new one was chosen. The gods only accepted the best, though that proved to be an extremely subjective word. King JJ himself was chosen last year and a week later was back on his throne, although rumors were he was a bit more subdued than usual. How anyone could tell was beyond him.

The carriage rolled to a stop in what felt like the heart of the forest. The forest itself stretched across hundreds of miles between the five kingdoms, serving as a buffer and a source of resources for all of them, depending on the favor of the gods who called it home. He’d never been past the border; only those who dwelled there or were invited were allowed to venture inside.

The heat was _stifling_ here, and summer had barely started. It wasn't just the heat, but the _humidity_. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, fanning himself with his book to no avail. He jumped as the carriage door opened, glaring at the royal soldier who poked his head inside.

“We’ve arrived.”

Guang-Hong frowned, glancing out the window again before climbing out. There was nothing but trees and plants nearly taller than he was as far as he could see, a narrow dirt path winding further east. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ritual or something?”

“Ah... well, that used to be the custom, yes, but... Well, the sacrifice five years ago ended up getting terribly drunk and... now it's a private ritual.”

Guang-Hong eyed the soldier, sure that was a flush beneath the helmet. That would have been more interesting if he weren’t expected to... sacrifice or offer himself up to the gods, alone. “And the altar?”

“Follow the path. We'll wait here for word on where to take your belongings.”

“Right....” With a sigh, he tossed his book back into the carriage, stalking along the path and smacking at the overgrown foliage as it scraped against his arms.

Why _him_? There were a dozen others he could think of better suited to being sacrificed to the gods. It wasn't like he was anything special; he was an _assassin_ for crying out loud. His hands weren't exactly clean.

He walked, and walked for what felt like hours before he finally stopped to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees as the sun did its best to burn through the canopy and melt his skin. His shirt stuck to his chest, plastered against his back with sweat. How did anyone _live_ in here?

With a groan, he forced his feet to start moving again. Something like a cave came into view around the next copse of trees and he sped up, crashing through the opening and sinking to his knees in the blessedly cooler space with a moan of relief. He pressed his face against the cool, stone wall and blinked up at the space that stretched further back. There was the sound of water and he crawled towards it like a dying man, hauling himself up near a… natural spring running down the stone into a small pool. What _was_ this place?

He’d cupped his hands to drink several times before spotting the small table with a pitcher and a cup, flushing as he realized how _uncivilized_ he was being just because of a little heat. And maybe he was annoyed that he’d been sent here at all. He sighed and splashed water on his face before standing to get a better look around.

The walls and ground were smooth and cleared of any rocks, and a path looked like it went even deeper as if into mountains, though the closest mountains should have been a hundred miles away, where the forest met the Altin territories. Other than the spring and table, there was only the altar with a simple black robe. Picking it up, he saw it wasn't just a robe but a _yukata_. A nice, breathable, cool _yukata._ He couldn't strip fast enough, peeling off the expensive, constricting, sweaty clothes he wore and wiping himself down with the cool water.

“ _Vkusn-_ OW!”

Guang-Hong spun around at the voice, snatching the _yukata_ to cover himself. “Who's there?”

His eyes widened as part of the stone wall melted into air, revealing a tall, silver haired man... no, not a man. Men definitely did not have _fluffy ears._ “Just us.”

Behind the not-man stood a shorter maybe-man with black hair. “I told him not to peek, sorry.” He jammed his elbow into the taller... not-man's side.

“Yuu~ri, that _hurts_.”

“Uh... Are you... the gods?” Guang-Hong asked, getting the _yukata_ on and tied before staring at the flicking, silver ears. And there was a _tail_ to go with them.

“They still call us that?”

“Of course they call you that, you're a _legend_.” The shorter one sighed as if this was a common discussion. “I'm Yuuri, I'm not a god. This is Viktor, he's an overgrown puppy.”

“Yuuri! I'm a _kitsune,_ not a _dog._ The only dog here is Makkachin.” Viktor whined and wrapped his arms around Yuuri from behind, all but using him as his support.

“Sorry, he's a little drunk right now.”

“O-oh....” Guang-Hong stared at them, flushing when they looked at each other and obviously forgot where they were if the way they were trying to make their noses become one was any indication. He cleared his throat before they could go further than face-nuzzling, almost feeling guilty when they jumped. “So... um...?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Viktor straightened and beckoned him forward. “Leo was actually supposed to be here to greet you, but he's... out.” He draped his arm over Guang-Hong’s shoulders, leading him back out into the forest. “Let's get you settled, you must be tired.”

He glanced up as Yuuri fell into step on his other side. “What exactly am I here for?”

Viktor groaned. “Why do they keep sending sacrifices without telling them anything?”

Yuuri snorted and glanced over with a fond look. “If they'd told me, I probably would have run away.”

“You _did_.”

“Yeah, well... I was hungover.”

Guang-Hong groaned and wished this Leo would have shown up like he was supposed to. Maybe he'd be able to give a straight answer. “I'm not going to be a slave or something, am I?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Viktor sighed and stopped walking, turning to put both hands on Guang-Hong’s shoulders. “You're not in danger, no one will hurt you, and if you truly want to return home at the end of a month, you can.”

Guang-Hong stared at the intense blue eyes before glancing up at the twitching ears. His fingers itched with the desire to touch them. “Okay... but why am I here?”

Viktor glanced at Yuuri before pulling back. “You're here to see what happens.” He grinned and patted Guang-Hong’s shoulders, turning to continue the walk.

It was all more forest on the other side of the cave, with the occasional rustle of some critter in the bushes, but at least the heat wasn't nearly as stifling as before. Untamed foliage slowly gave way to cultivated plants and ankle-high grass. The dirt path turned to smooth stone and led to a sprawling expanse of gardens, dwellings, and what looked like large mounds or caves. A cool breeze carried the scent of roasting meat and his mouth watered.

Yuuri glanced at him with a smile. “We'll have a feast in your honor this evening. Your things should have arrived by now.”

“How many of you live here?” There were far too many buildings for just one or two gods.

“A dozen or so if you count the kits,” Viktor answered.

“Kits?”

As if in answer, a tiny body raced towards them from one of the gardens, barreling into Yuuri’s legs. “Papa!”

Guang-Hong stared as Yuuri picked the girl up and patted her head, between two wildly flicking silver ears. Golden eyes peeked at him over Yuuri’s shoulder and he blinked as he heard a strange rumbling sound he belatedly realized was a growl.

“Stop that.” Viktor tried to sound chastising, but he could hear the amusement in his voice. “Guang-Hong is our guest. You'll behave yourself, or I'll send Seung-gil after you.”

The growling ended on a squeak. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Go let everyone know Guang-Hong has arrived,” Yuuri said, kissing her cheek before setting her back on the ground. “And then get your brother and clean up!” he called after her as she sprinted towards the larger buildings.

“Cute kid...”

“Isn’t she?” Viktor beamed and let out a happy sigh. “She takes after her papa.”

“She has your lungs.”

“Yuuri! How scandalous.”

Yuuri turned red and shot a glare at Viktor. “That's not what I meant and you know it.”

Guang-Hong covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and hooked his arm around Guang-Hong’s. “Why don't you see to our troublemakers and leave the humans to themselves?”

Viktor pouted before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, dear.”

With a smile Yuuri tugged Guang-Hong towards one of the small houses. “This is one of the only empty ones at the moment, but it has one of the best views. And has the most shade. I remember when I first got here, I felt like I'd die from the heat.”

As soon as they stepped into the shade around the house, he felt the drop in temperature and nearly moaned in relief. Inside was just as cool, though that was likely from the doors and windows all being open. “No locks?” he asked, testing the door.

“Ah, no. You'll get used to it. Everyone knows everyone else, so... The worst you need to worry about is one of the kits getting curious and sneaking in.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but he didn't say so as he moved further inside. There was a short table, a small sofa, and a large, overstuffed chair, one of his trunks tucked into the corner behind it. The kitchen had cupboards and a sink, and the bedroom had a dresser, bookshelf, and, thankfully, a proper bed. The rest of his things were piled along the far wall.

The bathroom held a large tub he could probably drown in; he'd definitely be using that later.

Yuuri poked his head into the hall. “Be sure to flip the switch before you bathe or you'll freeze. It needs a bit to heat up.”

Guang-Hong spotted the switch on the wall, flipping it a couple times. “Thanks.” Though a cold soak didn't sound too bad if it stayed this hot into the evening. He made his way back to the front door where Yuuri lingered.

“You can rest here until dinner, or I can show you around and introduce you.”

Guang-Hong eyed his trunk, part of him wanting to unpack or curl up and rest, though he wasn't as tired as he had been and he could unpack later. “Give me the tour?”

Yuuri smiled. “Right this way.”

There were only a handful of small houses like his, though Yuuri hadn't been lying about the view. The back yard looked out onto a pond with a flower and vine garden on one side, and what looked like a beehive on the other. In the distance, he could see sheep and pigs and a couple horses grazing.

The two largest structures turned out to be a workshop of sorts with a forge and carpentry table, and the other was where the food was kept and the cooking done. Meals were a communal affair and everyone pitched in where needed to keep the place running.

It was all so very... _ungodlike_.

Yuuri laughed when he said so. “They're not really gods... though they do act as the guardians of the forest. Without them, this land would have been ravished and destroyed ages ago.”

“A dozen of you protect the entire forest?”

“No. There are a few other settlements spread around, though most of them are about this size. Sara and Mila come through every month or two to gather extra supplies and deliver what we requested; they're the ones who deal most with the traders.” Yuuri paused and glanced over at him. “Sorry, I know it's a lot to take in.”

“A bit... What's that building?” he asked, nodding to a strange tower-like structure at the back of the settlement, separated by a stretch of land and a hedge wall.

“That's where the great mage Phichit lives, when he decides to stop by,” Yuuri said with a wry expression.

“Mage? Wait... not Phichit Chulanont?”

Yuuri looked at him in surprise. “You know him?”

Guang-Hong stopped and turned to face Yuuri. “Yes, but... he's a _mage_?” Phichit came to his father's workplace once or twice a month. Before, he'd thought he was someone who worked for his father, but now that he thought about it, his father tended to have “special jobs” come up around the time Phichit came by. More specifically, after he'd left.

“Are you okay? You look pale. Let's sit down.”

He nodded faintly and let Yuuri guide him to the long tables near where the food was cooking, dropping down and leaning over to put his head between his knees. This wasn't happening. It was all too much. How was this even possible? The gods who dwelled in the forest were the only ones with any real connections to magic anymore, and they weren’t even gods. How was there a _mage_? The last mage died before his great-grandfather was born. How did people not know about this?

“Here, drink.”

He looked up as a cold glass was pressed into his hand, hating the way it shook even with Yuuri’s hand still there to hold it steady. He drained several mouthfuls, spilling water over his chin in his haste, but the cool liquid down his throat helped calm him. The hand rubbing his back didn't hurt either. “Sorry,” he murmured, wincing as it came out as more of a croak.

“Don't be. I freaked out worse than this when I first came here.” Yuuri smiled and patted his back. “Do you want to go back to the house? Dinner should be ready soon, but I can always say you’re not feeling well and bring you a plate.”

Guang-Hong smiled and wrapped both hands around the glass when Yuuri let go. “Your mother hen is showing,” he said softly, grinning when Yuuri flushed. “I'm okay, thanks. Can I just... sit here until dinner?” The shade felt nice, and it was better to sit out here rather than in a strange house that might never feel like home.

“Of course.”

“Kenji, get back here!”

Yuuri winced and straightened, turning towards the yelling voice in time to catch a giggling kit with his black shaggy hair and Viktor’s bright blue eyes. “Why are you naked and sopping wet, son?”

Kenji blinked up at Yuuri with complete innocence. “Daddy wasn't fast enough to dry me.”

“Well, maybe he'll be fast enough to eat your dessert tonight for misbehaving.”

Kenji’s eyes widened in horror. “Papa wouldn't let him!”

“I'm glad to know someone in this family thinks I have any control over Daddy,” Yuuri said dryly. He glanced back at Guang-Hong, adjusting the squirming, soaking kit onto his hip. “I'll be back; help yourself to a snack if you need it.”

“Thanks.” He couldn't help the soft laugh as Yuuri carried his kit off towards where Viktor was chasing their girl, who apparently refused to wear the dress he was holding. It was strange to watch them and see how they gravitated towards each other, even while corralling their kids, giving up at one point and letting them run free and naked while they kissed, completely oblivious to anything but each other.

He pulled his eyes away with a flush, draining the rest of his water as he looked anywhere but on the publicly private moment. A large pig roasted over a fire on the other side of what apparently served as the communal kitchen, far enough away the breeze kept the heat of the fires from reaching him. The scent, however, permeated the air and made his stomach rumble. How long had it been since he ate?

He spotted the water barrel and stood, gripping the table as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Crap. He sucked in a few deep breaths until it eased up and prayed he hadn't gotten heat stroke. He'd been trained better than to let a little dizziness or nausea get the better of him! With a final deep breath, he made his way to the water to refill his glass, draining it with large sips before filling it again.

A bowl of fruit called to him and he gave in to the need for food, plucking a peach from the top and sinking his teeth in. Juice exploded over his tongue and dripped down his chin and he couldn't stop the moan of delight at the crisp sweetness. Peaches back home rarely tasted so good! He finished one and grabbed a second before turning back to the long table, tilting his head as he saw someone walking from the forest with what looked like a sheep draped over their shoulders behind their neck.

They reached the area where the other livestock were, lowering the sheep to the ground. Once the animal regained its own footing, it scampered away, kicking out its hind legs once before rejoining its herd. The not-man... what were they calling themselves? Not gods. _Kitsune_? Ancient fox spirits. Well, they did have ears and tails. The kitsune stood and when he drew closer, Guang-Hong could tell he was limping. Before he could gather the strength to go see if he could help, he spotted someone else moving towards the kitsune, another human judging by the lack of ears.

They were too far away to hear what they were saying, but the kitsune looked annoyed. Guang-Hong sank back down at the table, sipping his water as he watched them argue before the human grabbed the kitsune’s arm and dragged him towards where Guang-Hong sat. He tensed and shifted back, already hearing his father's voice in his head, berating him for cowering when he wasn't even in any true danger as far as he could tell. He sank his teeth into his second peach, sucking at the juices to keep them from dribbling over his chin again as they stepped under the awning.

The human guided the other to sit at the end of the table and Guang-Hong gulped when he turned and looked at him, eyes dark and intense. “Do not let him leave,” he said before turning and stalking away.

Guang-Hong swallowed his bite and glanced to the kitsune, grimacing as he saw why he'd been limping. The bottom of his pants leg were torn and soaked through with blood. “What happened?”

The kitsune eyed him with a frown before turning away, tawny ears twitching as he let out a sigh as if still annoyed. “Nothing.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow, taking another bite of peach. “Pretty painful nothing.” He blinked as the kitsune pushed himself to his feet with a hiss of pain. “You're not supposed to leave....”

The kitsune leveled a glare at him, ears flicking back like an angry cat. “Are you going to stop me?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, annoyed that this... _not-god_ was getting upset at _him_ for no reason. It wasn't like he should care. He didn't know who this _not-god_ even was, and he either made an enemy of him by keeping him here or an enemy of the human by letting him go. If it came down to that choice... “Am I going to have to?” he asked, sitting up straighter with a lift to his chin. He had no idea what kind of strengths a kitsune had, but he always had the advantage of being underestimated. He'd gained a few inches since his teen years, though he was still slight. Fortunately, he was mostly muscle.

The kitsune blinked at him, clearly surprised to be challenged, and he felt a twinge of satisfaction at that at least. Then he sneered, looking away as he dropped back down to the bench.

Well, that went well. He focused on finishing his peach now that conversation was clearly out of the question.

“You're eating my peaches.”

Guang-Hong glanced up, narrowing his eyes and biting down on the initial reflex to apologize. “The food is communal.”

The kitsune tilted his head to look at him, brown eyes narrowing. “I'm the only one around here besides the kits who likes them.”

Guang-Hong shrugged, not about to be intimidated at this point. “Not anymore.”

The kitsune sneered again, though whatever other argument he was going to make was interrupted by the human returning. “You're slow.”

“And you're an idiot.” The human knelt in front of the kitsune and pulled out some scissors from his kit, cutting the pants up to the knee and pushing them back, revealing a long, deep gash. “You, Guang-Hong, right? Fill this with water. Please,” he added as if it were an afterthought, holding out a small bowl.

Guang-Hong set the last of his peach aside, appetite fleeing as he took it and did as asked. He clamped down on his gag reflex when he stepped closer to hand it back, pressing a hand to his mouth and trying not to think about how similar it looked to a knife wound. Or about how _much_ knife wounds could bleed and how difficult it was to get the blood out of your skin and out from under your nails. How badly it smelled when the target died from the wounds and you were stuck with a cooling corpse for an hour, long after it voided itself.

He didn't remember moving, but he found himself on his knees outside, retching with his arms braced over his head against the wood. A soft moan pushed out of his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head drop forward against his arms. A headache formed behind his eyes as he caught his breath, somehow finding the strength to get back to his feet. He could feel them eyeing him as he picked up his water to rinse out his mouth.

“Waste of peaches,” the kitsune muttered before he let out a sharp hiss.

Guang-Hong stiffened, a small part of him hoping the human had stabbed him with the needle he was stitching the kitsune up with on purpose. A less small part hoped he did it again. He didn't bother responding, refilling his water before turning to leave.

“You should do yourself a favor and ask to go home!” the kitsune called after him.

“Please tell Yuuri I don't need dinner,” he called back, letting his feet guide him back to the house. He finished his water and barricaded the door by shoving the sofa in front of it. By the time he finished, his head was pounding and his body was clammy.

Despite weapons not being allowed, he had a knife tucked into one of his trunks and desperately wanted to find it, but the thought of doing anything more made him queasy again. He grabbed a pillow off the bed instead, taking it to the bathroom and crawling into the tub. At least it was cool, and the dark helped to calm him enough he eventually slipped into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thought I told you to stop sending your midgets to wake me?” Yurio sank down at the table with a grumble, though he brightened a bit when Yuuri set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Especially when they’re wet.”

He woke to the heat of midday pressing in on him and a parched throat, his head feeling like it'd made friends with a wall several times over. With a groan, he climbed out of the tub, dragging himself to the bedroom where he found his clothes trunk buried beneath one filled with his books. He groaned again, flopping face down onto the bed, too miserable to try to change into normal clothes.

This was a mistake. Someone had made a mistake in choosing him. Why did they even _need_ sacrifices? They were self-sufficient from what he could tell; the land was thriving despite the heat and none of the animals he'd seen appeared sick. He wasn't needed here. Hadn't the jerk of a kitsune even said to go home?

He rolled over with a sigh, glancing towards the window and sitting up when he saw a tray of food sitting on the sill. His stomach rumbled as he slid off the bed, grabbing the glass of what looked and smelled like a flavored tea and draining it. The plate held a thick slice of toasted bread, slathered with butter and honey, and a peach, which he set aside, unable to stomach it after yesterday.

Honey oozed over his lips and fingers as he devoured the toast with soft hums of delight, licking them clean as he refilled the glass from the pitcher. Some of the ache in his head eased as it all hit his stomach and he took a breath, turning back to his trunks. A shower would help him feel human again.

He dragged the heavy trunk until he could maneuver it to the floor without breaking anything, himself included. None of his clothes would be as comfortable as the _yukata_ in the heat, but he settled on a thin black shirt and jeans before returning to the bathroom. He turned the water on and shrugged out of the _yukata_ while it warmed. Maybe they had some spare ones he could trade for or something.

He stepped into the shower and screeched at the ice cold water pelting him like needles. Why was it so _cold_?! He squirmed out from under the spray and turned it off. Well, he was certainly awake and no longer in danger of melting into the floor. He shrugged the _yukata_ back on, glaring at the shower before spotting the switch and remembering Yuuri’s warning. Great.

With a sigh, he flipped the switch, returning to the bedroom for his tea. He set the tray aside and leaned out the window as he sipped the cool liquid, spotting the kits playing near the pond. Yuuri watched from a few feet back, legs stretched out in front of him with his weight braced on his hands behind him. Even from this distance he could tell they were smiling, could hear the kits laughing as they splashed each other.

He tipped his face back and closed his eyes as a breeze blew through, sighing into it. It'd only been one day. The first day was always the worst, right? It'd get better. Only the tawny kitsune had been a jerk, everyone else he'd met had been pleasant enough.

He looked back to the pond to find Yuuri waving at him, lifting his hand to wave back.

Yuuri stood, saying something to the kits before jogging over. “Hey. Feeling better? Seung-gil said you got sick?”

Guang-Hong grimaced and slumped against the sill. “Yeah... Sorry I missed the feast.”

Yuuri waved a hand in dismissal, crossing his arms and propping a shoulder against the wall. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Funny, that's what Leo keeps saying happened to his leg.”

 _That_ had been Leo? He was glad he _hadn't_ been the one to meet him when he arrived or he likely would have turned around and left and to hell with the consequences.

Yuuri sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn't tell you this, but if you're still miserable after a week, you can leave. I know it's rough, but... I hope you'll give this a chance.”

Guang-Hong glanced up at Yuuri, feeling a bit of his unease fade knowing it didn't have to be a month. Not that he’d choose to return home if he could help it, anything was better than _that_ right now, but it was nice to know he had the option. That he wasn't trapped, even if it was a decision between a cliff and a free fall. “I don't want to go home,” he said softly. He couldn't bear the thought of more blood on his hands.

“Well, we're glad to have you as long as you like.” Yuuri pushed off the wall and stretched. “Are you coming out today? Yurio snuck back in last night, we can give him a reason to be cranky.”

Guang-Hong bit his lip, glancing back at the bare room and bookshelf before nodding. Unpacking could wait. “I'd like a shower first.”

“Don't forget the switch.”

He winced as he pushed away from the window. “Already did.”

Yuuri chuckled. “Come find me when you're ready,” he said, turning to head back to the pond.

Guang-Hong hummed as he returned to the bathroom, testing the water and sighing in relief when it was at least lukewarm. He stood under the spray for a long moment, letting it beat into his shoulders and trickle through his hair.

The shampoo provided smelled like mint and made his scalp tingle in an amazing way; that was definitely something he could get used to. He washed his hair twice just to prolong the sensation. The soap smelled of herbs and something earthy, and by the time he finished and rinsed, he felt more like himself than he'd thought possible. Calm and ready to risk facing whoever this cranky Yurio was. Hopefully he wasn't as bad as Leo.

Yuuri was still by the pond with the kits by the time he unbarricaded his door and ventured outside. The sun was high enough to be almost noon and his stomach was starting to want something a bit more filling than toast.

“Okay you two, go get Uncle Yurio for lunch,” Yuuri said, getting to his feet.

The kits ran out of the pond, trailing water behind them as they took off towards one of the mound-caves, yips and squeals echoing back.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat.” Guang-Hong ran his fingers through his damp hair as they walked, enjoying the lingering tingling from the shampoo and the cool breeze that picked up every so often. “So... How long have you been here?”

“About five years now.”

“And you've never left?”

Yuuri glanced over with a faint smile. “I go home to visit my family every year or so. It's easier now that the kits are older.” He shifted to bump his arm against Guang-Hong’s. “We're not prisoners, if that's what you're worried about.”

“No...” He wasn't really sure what he was worried about. “What do you do here?”

“I help out with the meals mostly. Viktor handles the trading, and he's in the rotation for patrols.”

“Patrols?”

“We patrol the northern section up to the mountains.” Yuuri gestured in the general direction as he spoke. “Sometimes further east and west when needed. It usually takes a week, sometimes two depending on the weather.”

“Do you find people trying to sneak in?” The forest was protected with magic and off limits to outsiders, everyone knew that, though he'd heard of kids or poachers trying to sneak in and disappearing.

“Once in a while, but not that often as far as I know.”

They reached the tables about the same time shouting could be heard from the mound the kits disappeared into. A few moments later they were running back out, giggling as a tall, blond kitsune stepped out after them, following at a far more leisurely pace.

“How do you feel about pork sandwiches?” asked Yuuri, scooping up his kits and setting them in place at one end of a table before handing each half a banana.

Guang-Hong settled on the other side of the kits. “Sounds good.” He glanced up as the cranky uncle reached them and he got a good look at him: blond hair pulled back in an intricate weave and bright green eyes, a white yukata, and what looked like tiny vines of ivy wrapped along the length of his left arm. His ears and tail were nearly gold and tipped with black.

“Thought I told you to stop sending your midgets to wake me?” Yurio sank down at the table with a grumble, though he brightened a bit when Yuuri set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Especially when they’re wet.”

Yuuri chuckled and returned to making sandwiches. “You slept over twelve hours. And you haven’t met Guang-Hong yet.”

Yurio glanced to him as he sipped his coffee, green eyes flicking over him. “Don’t call me Yurio. It’s Yuri.”

Guang-Hong blinked before nodding with a faint smile. “Yuri. Got it.” That wasn’t going to be confusing at all.

Yuri grunted and returned to his coffee, though Guang-Hong didn’t miss the faint smile as he watched the kits. He didn't look quite so much like he'd bite everyone's heads off like that.

“How was your patrol?”

Yuri glanced at Yuuri, hunching his shoulders a bit. “Fine. Emil met me halfway.”

Yuuri hummed and carried plates to the table, setting ones with pork sandwiches in front of Guang-Hong and Yuri and what looked like peanut butter and honey in front of the kits. “How's Otabek?” he asked, retrieving drinks before settling by the kits with his own.

Yuri made a soft growling sound, ears flicking back as he bit into his sandwich with more force than necessary. “He's _fine._ ”

Guang-Hong eyed them both as he took a bite of his own sandwich with a soft hum of delight. The pork was warm and covered with fresh lettuce, tomato, and some sweet and spicy sauce.

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “You should invite him here sometime. It's been nearly four years and we've never even met him.”

“Not going to happen. Neither of us want him to be a sacrifice.” He paused as he took a sip of his coffee, glancing to Guang-Hong. “No offense.”

Guang-Hong blinked and licked a smear of the delicious sauce off his finger. “What's wrong with being a sacrifice?”

“Nothing. But he's a prince.”

“He's not the heir though, is he?” Yuuri asked, catching a piece of sandwich Klara tried to throw at her brother. “Behave.”

“Doesn't matter.” Yuri stood, taking his cup to refill his coffee. “If something happens to his brother, he inherits. That's the last thing we need.”

Guang-Hong tilted his head as he sipped his tea. “Wasn't there a Queen who served as a sacrifice?” It was before his time and even though she was still alive, she'd been overthrown before he was born.

Yuri grimaced, rummaging through the canisters until he found what looked like sugar to add to his cup. “And look how that turned out.”

“What do you mean?” He winced as Kenji banged his plate on the table before Yuuri managed to grab it. “I thought she made a lot of progress with preserving the borders?”

Yuuri nodded, managing to get a bite of his own food. “She also helped regulate and guide some of the other settlements away from the more barbaric rituals.”

Guang-Hong grimaced and could imagine what that meant well enough to know he didn't want to ask.

Yuri gave them both an annoyed look. “I'm talking about for Yakov... She hates living in the forest and he hates the cities. Do you know what that does to a kitsune, never seeing your mate?”

“...I'm guessing it's not good.”

Yuri sneered into his coffee. “It slowly drives you mad.” He glanced up when Yuuri sighed. “I'm not asking that of either of us.”

“Well, I guess it's a good thing JJ didn't last long then.”

“JJ can go to hell,” Yuri snarled.

Yuuri slanted a disapproving look at him when the kits started chanting “Hell, hell, hell!” He sighed and reached over to clear their plates away. “You just earned yourself babysitting duty.”

Guang-Hong chuckled as Yuri smirked, his expression torn between smug pride and something bordering on apologetic. He pushed his empty plate away, turning to face Yuri as he studied the vines. “Are those real?”

Yuri glanced to him, following his gaze and flexing his fingers. The vines shifted with the movement. “Yeah. They're the mark of a Shrine Keeper.”

“Shrine to what?”

“Huh... Most outsiders usually ask ‘what's that?’”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was self-explanatory.”

Yuri smirked and turned back to Yuuri, pointing at Guang-Hong with the hand holding his coffee. “I like him.”

Heat crept into his cheeks and spread across his nose, his eyes widening as Yuuri clutched at his chest with a look of shock.

“Be still, my dying heart. _You_? _Like_ someone?” Yuri looked at Guang-Hong and winked. “If you can win over Yurio, you can win over anyone.” He laughed as Yuri chucked a piece of crust at him. “Haven't you taught my children enough bad habits for the day?”

“Never. I'm the only one who dares.” He set his plate on top of the others before returning to the topic. “The Shrine to our _kami_ Inari. It's in the forest by a spring not far from here.”

“Why vines?”

Yuri shrugged, refilling his coffee again and snagging a peach, which he proceeded to cut into slices for the kits to devour. “They're tied to the forest and reflect its health and vitality.”

“They're _magic_?” He couldn't help the soft tone of wonder in his voice. He knew, intellectually, this place was filled with magic; the kitsune themselves were proof of that, but to see something with his own eyes... He flushed as he noticed they were both amused by his outburst.

“I guess.” Yuri eyed him a moment before a smirk tugged at his lips. “Bet you've never seen a companion before either,” he said, giving a sharp two-tone whistle.

Guang-Hong glanced to Yuuri, hoping to find some indication of what was going to happen, but he only shook his head in amusement and reached for his half-eaten sandwich. A few moments later, he spotted movement near the trees, his eyes widening as a large cat stalked towards them. Far too large to be just a cat - he was sure he could have ridden it if he wanted to risk life and limb.

The cat walked right up to Yuri with a quiet rumble and put its head in his lap.

“Meet Sasha,” Yuri said, grinning as he rubbed the massive ears.

Sasha lifted her head, large golden eyes looking right at him. She wasn't just a cat; even he could see the intelligence in her eyes. Her coloring reminded him of a leopard, bright oranges and rich black. “She's gorgeous.”

“Of course she is,” Yuri said with a smug expression. He glanced to the kits when Yuuri finally cleaned them up and let them get up, lifting them as they squealed to set them on Sasha’s back. “Don't fall,” he said, even as he made strange gestures with his fingers, coils of ivy wrapping around them to hold them in place.

Sasha let out a soft roar and took off at a fast walk.

“Babysitting complete.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible.”

Guang-Hong chuckled, watching Sasha circle the area. “She doesn't mind?”

“Nah, she's a sap.”

He propped his chin on his fist, absently turning his empty glass between his fingers.

“Guang-Hong.”

He looked up to see the black-haired human from before - Seung-gil, Yuuri had said. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling better?” Seung-gil lingered near the table, eyeing him in concern.

Guang-Hong smiled and nodded. “Much, thank you.”

Seung-gil nodded, glancing to the other two with a nod of greeting before making himself a sandwich. “Phichit sent word, he'll be back in a day or two.”

“How long is he staying this time?” Yuuri asked.

“As long as he can.”

Guang-Hong kept his mouth shut despite wanting to ask how a _mage_ had come to exist and why he'd given his father jobs. He couldn't know how much they actually knew about him and... part of him hoped they never found out. It was bad enough living with the memories; if he was going to be here any real length of time, he couldn't bear them knowing. They would surely kick him out.

He was lost enough in his own self-loathing he didn't notice Leo approaching until he'd limped his way in and dropped down beside Seung-gil. Across from him. He tensed, staring at his glass to keep from looking at the kitsune, bracing himself for a scathing remark about how he'd drank all of Leo's tea. He didn't realise he was holding his breath until his head started to pound and his chest felt tight, letting it out in a slow exhale.

The others continued their conversation, though he couldn't focus enough to listen. He swore he could feel eyes on him, though he didn't dare try to find whose. Instead, he picked up his glass and plate and set them in the basin. “Thank you for lunch.”

“Ah, are you going back to the house?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, I... think the heat is getting to me.” It wasn't a complete lie. His head was still pounding and threatened to turn into a migraine. He hoped he could stop it before it did.

He wasn't quite out of earshot when he heard Leo finally speak up. “I don't see him lasting a month.”

“Might last longer if you stopped being an ass,” Seung-gil replied.

“I didn't say anything!”

Guang-Hong missed whatever their response was, breathing a bit easier when he reached the shade around his house and stepped inside. It was tempting to barricade the door again, but he'd leave it until he went to bed at least. He stretched out on it instead, staring at the ceiling and willing the headache to go away.

He should unpack, but now that he was lying down he didn't want to move. Damn the heat and how lazy and lethargic it made him. He'd rather have rain or snow, anything but this humid heat that dragged him down.

He woke in the middle of the night, groggy and disoriented. When had he fallen asleep? With a groan, he dragged himself up and to the bathroom to relieve himself, splashing cool water on his face.

The covered tray waiting on his window sill was more a relief than surprise. He'd have to find some way to repay Yuuri for his kindness, especially when some magic apparently kept the food warm. He all but inhaled the soup and fresh, crusty bread.

Twice he'd missed dinner now. He was going to overstay his welcome at this rate, he was sure. With a sigh, he ventured outside for some fresh air, the temperature in a pleasant range for once. His feet carried him to the pond and he caught a familiar scent of cloves as he approached. The source turned out to be a kitsune smoking near the water's edge. Chris, he thought. Yuuri had pointed him out though he hadn't met him face to face.

“Wondered when I'd get to meet our famed guest.” Chris lifted his hand, beckoning him over. “Can't sleep?”

Guang-Hong dropped down to sit beside him. “I fell asleep around noon....”

Chris laughed. “Are you part owl?”

He smiled faintly and drew his knees up to wrap his arms around. “...I have always enjoyed night more than day.” He glanced to Chris, resting his cheek on his knees. “What about you?”

“Hundred percent kitsune,” Chris answered, grinning at him when he laughed. “I don't need much sleep.” The end of his cigarette flared bright a moment. “Luckily, I don't mind sitting in silence.”

Guang-Hong hummed softly, tipping his head back to look at the sky. There was no fog here, no steam or light pollution to obstruct the stars. They were all visible amid thick swirls of blue and purple, the moon a bright eye shining through the treetops in the distance. “It’s peaceful.”

“Mmmhmm. Good for clearing the head.”

“You often need to clear your head?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Chris snorted. “Around here? Cherish any peace you find. It's a miracle.” They both fell silent for several long moments as they watched the stars. “Something on your mind you need to clear?”

Guang-Hong bit his lip, unsure if he should voice any concerns or not. “No....”

“I don't buy that.” Chris finished his cigarette and scattered the remains. “Anything you say to me I'll keep to myself. Vitya and I are like the big brothers, I can keep a secret.” He shifted, pulling out a tiny silver knife. “If you need assurance, I can bind my silence to you.”

Guang-Hong blinked and lifted his head, eyeing the dagger. “What do you mean?”

“A simple spell. Anything you say to me tonight, I'll be unable to repeat to anyone without your permission.” Chris shrugged and twirled the knife between his fingers.

He licked his lips and stared at Chris and the knife, finally nodding. “Okay.” He watched with wide eyes as Chris put the tip of the blade to his fingertip, cutting the skin enough a bit of blood welled up.

“Give me your hand,” Chris said, taking Guang-Hong’s hand palm-up. “Words spoken in confidence will be sealed behind my lips,” he said, pressing his finger to Guang-Hong’s palm and leaving a symbol in blood. It burned silver before melting into the skin.

He shivered as he felt a tingle through his hand and up his arm, staring at the lingering afterimage on his palm before glancing up at Chris. “That's it?”

“That's it.” Chris licked the wound on his finger and winked. “So. What's eating you?”

Guang-Hong sighed, absently rubbing at his palm. “I... feel like I shouldn't be here.”

“As a sacrifice I take it. Why not?”

“Because I've... _done_ things. I... I have blood on my hands,” he whispered.

“Mmm. So you're a warrior.”

Guang-Hong looked up in surprise. “What?”

“A warrior. You can handle weapons, know how to fight. Or am I wrong?”

“N-no... You're not wrong.” It wasn't exactly the response he'd expected, but it was true enough.

“Would you use those skills to help or protect the others if you stayed here?” Chris smiled when Guang-Hong nodded. “Then I don’t see what the problem is. You were chosen for a reason, and you weren't chosen blindly; there's more to a sacrifice than their past.”

Guang-Hong blinked against the stinging in his eyes, his chest tight with the need to sob with relief.

Chris sighed. “If you're going to cry, you may as well do it on my shoulder.”

With a choked off laugh, he scooted closer, hesitating before leaning into Chris’ side. He pressed his hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs, burying his face in Chris’ shoulder. The warm hand rubbing his back felt nice. Soothing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched like this, though it was likely the last time he’d cried, when he'd been but a child.

“It'll get better. Promise. Everyone has a bit of a shock coming here the first time,” Chris murmured.

He took a steadying breath and hiccuped.“No one will tell me _why_ I'm here,” he said with a hint of a whine. It'd be so much easier if he knew what he was supposed to _do_.

Chris chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry, can't tell you much more than you've already been told, but... don't think of it as being a sacrifice. That's an archaic term from a shady past. You're more of a guest. You're visiting to see how you like it. If you decide to stay, it's because you found something you want to keep hold of.”

Guang-Hong blinked and tipped his head back to look up at Chris. That... made him feel better about it. He was just here visiting. If he didn't like it, he left. If he did... he could think of this as... home?

“Better?”

He managed a watery smile and nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He pulled back, breathing in deep of the crisp night air.  

Chris squeezed his shoulder again before pulling his hand away. “Makes it easier if you try to spend time with anyone you get along with.”

“So stay away from Leo,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

Chris chuckled. “Don’t take it personally. He’s... like that to everyone lately.”

Guang-Hong glanced at him, curious despite himself. “That’s not an excuse.”

“Not saying it is.” Chris ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “Just don’t let him get to you.”

He wrinkled his nose before grumbling under his breath. “I’ll try.” He glanced up at the stars again. “I’m going to try to sleep again and... maybe get up to help with breakfast.”

“Good luck. Yuuri starts that before the rooster even crows.”

“Ugh.” He pushed to his feet with a laugh. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You can find me here most nights,” Chris said with a wink.

Guang-Hong nodded. “Goodnight.” He headed back to the house and crawled into the bed properly for the first time. It was a nice bed, and the sheets were cool. He drifted to sleep wondering if they were spelled like the food had been.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd for the moment...

He didn't quite make it up in time to help with breakfast, but he at least caught Yuuri before he brought a tray again. Breakfast was a chaotic mess of everyone shouting their plans or what needed done for the day while half of them fought over the food. He was too busy trying not to laugh at Yuri and Viktor’s arguing to even feel out of place. By the time everyone went their separate ways and Yuri and Sasha took the kits for the morning, he and Yuuri were the only ones left.

“Is it always like that?” he asked, reaching for the plates to help clean up.

“Usually. Lunch is the only somewhat calm meal.” Yuuri stretched with a deep sigh. “I need a nap before then.”

“Kits keep you up?”

“No, Viktor,” he replied dryly, pausing before he continued and flushing a bit as he obviously changed his mind. “So what do you have planned for the day?”

Guang-Hong shrugged. “Unpack maybe. Is there anything you need help with?”

“Mmm, there's still enough leftovers from the feast to take care of lunch for today. The kits are tending the gardens and picking vegetables for dinner later.” Yuuri set the last of the dishes in the basin and filled it with water. “I can ask around and see if anyone needs a hand if you'd like.”

“Sure. Thanks.” At least he was making progress. His chat with Chris had left him feeling lighter and ready to face the challenge of making this his home. “Have a nice nap.”

He grabbed a glass of tea to take back with him, glancing at his trunks and taking a deep breath. He could do this. It wouldn't take that long if he didn't get distracted.

He started with his clothes, sorting and folding them to put in the dresser. The empty trunks went into the closet. He found his knife tucked away in the third trunk and slipped it under his pillow, glancing to the window to make sure no one was watching.

He finished emptying one trunk of books and was half done with the second when there was a knock on his door. He stuck his head out the window to see Chris with a small tray. “I get the feeling you're all trying to fatten me up for slaughter.”

Chris laughed, moving to the window to hand over the tray. “Slaughter would be the last thing on my mind,” he said with a wink. Guang-Hong blinked, his mind trying to wrap itself around the notion of Chris _flirting_ with him. “What are you doing all holed up in here?”

“Uh... unpacking,” he said, ignoring the flush of heat in his cheeks as he eyed the bowl of peaches with a large glob of cream. He dipped his finger in it before licking it clean. That was _delicious_ \- fresh and slightly sweet. He scooped up more, glancing up with a smile only to find Chris staring at him as he sucked his finger clean. He felt his face go scarlet, pulling his finger out of his mouth and turning for the door so he could compose himself.

Just breathe. It wasn't like he hadn't been hit on before, he just was never in a position to return the sentiment even if he'd wanted to. Once he'd been... _involved_ in his father's work, what interest he'd had in getting attached to anyone who could get hurt because of him vanished entirely.

He banged his forehead against the wall a couple times before pulling the door open. “Really though. What's with all the food?”

Chris raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. “If you stopped missing meals, Yuuri wouldn't worry so much.”

Guang-Hong wrinkled his nose and dipped a slice of peach in the cream before popping it in his mouth. He hadn't missed _that_ many... Just dinners… and breakfast. “Sorry.”

Chris waved a hand. “So long as you're adjusting. You need help unpacking?”

“I'm almost done I think.” Just his books and the trunk with his few pictures and treasures he hadn't been able to leave behind were left. He dropped down on the large chair, crossing his legs as he worked through the rest of the peaches. “Is there anything I can help with? What is it you do?”

“Me?” Chris shrugged. “A lot of odds and ends, help keep the peace, unofficial record keeper.”

“That sounds difficult.”

“Not too bad until Yurio decides to pick a bone with someone,” Chris said dryly.

Guang-Hong snickered, resisting the urge to swipe up the last of the cream with his finger and setting the bowl on the table instead. “I might go wander. I haven't really seen much outside of the tour. Yuri said there's a shrine?”

“To Inari, yeah. There's a small path that leads to it near the barn. Careful you don't get lost, or touch anything. Yurio’ll get cranky if you do.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Chris grinned. “Maybe. He used to need weekly reminders that his attitude sucked. He's calmed a lot these past couple years.”

Guang-Hong wasn't sure he wanted to know what Yuri used to be like if he was “calm” now.

Chris reached for the bowl, using his own finger to dip up what was left of the cream and licking it off with a wink. “Go wander. Fresh air should do you good,” he said, standing and heading to the door with a decidedly teasing flick of his tail. “Yell if you need anything.”

“Thanks....” He breathed a soft sigh once the door closed behind Chris, rubbing at his face. What the hell was that?

Air. He definitely needed fresh air. He pulled his boots on and headed out, thankful for the breeze as he stuck to the shade as much as possible.

The barn was easy enough to find and he took a few minutes watching the animals. There were way more than he'd originally seen - chickens, sheep, goats... He even spied some rabbits, but they seemed to be wild. A large grey wolf-dog dozed near the sheep, the flicking ears betraying its alertness.

He pushed away from the fence, walking around the barn until he found the path to the shrine. Only a dozen steps brought him into the thick of the forest, the path winding between trees, parts of it obscured by bushes and flowers he'd never seen before.

When he came to a fork, he stopped, cursing under his breath. Chris hadn't mentioned having to choose a direction. Did that mean he was lost?

Fantastic.

He closed his eyes and refrained from turning around in case he lost what direction he'd come from. He steadied his breathing until his heartbeat wasn't pounding in his ears, focusing on the music of the forest instead - the wind-rustle of the leaves, the droning cicadas, the staggered trills of songbirds. Beneath it he could just make out the sound of water, but he couldn't focus on it with the sound of... singing overshadowing it.

He turned towards the singing, following it around a bend and stopping as he found Leo in front of an injured deer, a couple of spotted fawns next to him. One of them had its hooves on his back as it chewed at his hair.

Guang-Hong stifled a laugh of surprise behind his hand, unable to believe the sight. He ducked behind a large bush, unwilling to make his presence known, both in case it startled the animals and because he was sure Leo's mood would turn sour.

Leo tended to the doe’s injured leg as he continued singing, though he didn't understand the words. The lilt sounded like an upbeat song despite the somber tone of his voice. He had a good singing voice, and he actually looked... kind of cute when he wasn't scowling, and why the hell was he thinking _that_? Chris had to be getting to him. It wasn't like seeing Leo being _kind_ changed the fact he was a jerk.

He bit his lip as he realized he was spying, taking a step back and wincing as a twig snapped beneath his foot. He froze as the deer startled. _Crap_. If Leo wanted to kill him, now would be the most opportune time.

He tensed as Leo looked up, putting himself in front of the injured animal and drawing a long knife from the sheath on his thigh. The sight of the weapon triggered his trained instincts enough he was reaching for his own weapon that wasn't there before he could stop himself, his trainer's words echoing through his head: _Leave no witnesses._

Leo wasn't a witness. This wasn't a job and he wasn't in any danger. He hoped. He swallowed as Leo looked at the bush he was hiding behind for several heartbeats before finally turning back, sheathing his weapon.

“That's all I can do. Stay away from the thicket from now on, yeah?” Leo snorted as the deer butted her head against him before turning, her fawns trotting after her.

Guang-Hong held his breath as Leo picked up the supplies, wondering if he should run for it or just stay still and hope for the best.

“I really hope you don't think you're hidden.”

 _Shit_. He winced as Leo stood and walked right towards him. “I wasn’t spying....” he said, stepping out from behind the bush.

“Right.”

Guang-Hong made a face before taking a breath, refusing to let Leo get to him. “I was looking for the shrine and... followed your voice when I heard you singing. It was good.”

Leo eyed him in surprise, looking away with a faint flush and hefting his bag. “...The shrine is this way.” He turned and started back towards the other fork in the path.

Apparently his mother was right, a little kindness went a long way. He smirked and followed after. “You're good with animals.”

“I guess.”

Guang-Hong hummed and took the chance to look for any landmarks or defining markers, though all he could make out was green, green, and more green, sometimes interrupted by large, bright flowers. “How do you not get lost out here?”

Leo glanced back at him with a twitch of his ears. “How do you not get lost in your cities?”

Guang-Hong tilted his head, biting his tongue against the urge to say they had roads and signs. It wasn't like he looked at the signs half the time anyway. “The buildings all look different. They act as landmarks.”

“So do the trees.” Leo slowed a minute later near a tree larger than the others in the area, it's branches extending up and out further than he could see. The sound of water grew louder the closer they got. “Shrine is he-” he started, stopping and looking around as his ears twitched. He took off around the tree with a curse.

Guang-Hong hurried after, the shrine coming into view on the other side, tucked into a hole carved into the massive trunk. The source of the water came from a spring that welled up under the carving of a fox with nine tails and turned into a deep pool beneath the tree's roots.

Yuri was hunched over near where the path ended, one arm pressed against his stomach. He looked up when Leo dropped down next to him, slapping his hand away. “I'm fine. Just something I ate.” He stood up with a grimace. “Why are you two here?”

“I just wanted to explore the village... Are you sure you're okay?”

Yuri brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen free from his weave. “I'm fine.”

“You're pale,” Leo said.

Yuri glared. “I'm _fine_ ,” he said, turning towards the shrine. He swayed to the side as he walked.

He and Leo both rushed forward, grabbing Yuri’s arms as he lost his balance. “You're _not_ fine. You should rest.”

Yuri growled and tried to get away from their hold before nearly collapsing again with a soft moan. “Maybe.”

Guang-Hong glanced at Leo over Yuri’s head. “Should we carry him?”

Leo slanted an annoyed look at him, though he could see the concern beneath it. He handed his pack over before scooping Yuri up in his arms. “Keep up.”

Guang-Hong caught the pack and broke into a run just to keep up with Leo’s quick strides. The overhanging leaves and branches seemed to pull away from their path despite them cutting through the thick of the forest.

When the forest finally gave way to the village, he slowed to catch his breath. Several of the others were gathered near the dining area and Leo continued on ahead, the others crowding around him and Yuri as he reached them. He drew up to them a couple minutes later, setting Leo's bag on the end of the table.

Seung-gil crouched in front of Yuri, speaking with him in quiet tones.

“Guang-Hong, good to see you again.”

Guang-Hong tensed and turned to see Phichit walking towards them, wearing a gold and red yukata that strangely suited him. “Phichit....”

Phichit smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he passed, pausing as he looked at Yuri and Seung-gil. “Yuri. Congratulations.”

Yuri looked up in annoyance. “Screw you, too.”

Seung-gil looked at Phichit a moment before turning back to Yuri. “He's saying you're pregnant.”

“I'm WHAT?!”

“HE'S WHAT?”

Guang-Hong winced at the loud chorus of disbelief. Yuri was... pregnant? He supposed he'd known subconsciously it was possible considering Yuuri and Viktor had children who looked exactly like them, but the concept of a _male_ giving birth was a bit to really wrap his mind around.

“Yurio, when did you get yourself a mate?” Viktor asked, patting Yuri on the back.

“I didn't,” Yuri snapped, shifting to slap at Viktor’s hand.

“Of course you did!”

“It's Otabek, right?”

“Knew you smelled different.”

“We should bring him here to be with you,” Yuuri added.

“NO!” Yuri snarled loud enough to silence everyone, pushing to his feet only to wince and sink back down. “Leave him alone.”

“Yuri... You know how difficult-” Seung-gil started.

“I mean it!” Yuri bared his teeth and flattened his ears like an angry cat.

Guang-Hong stepped closer to Yuri and sank down beside him, acting on impulse as he wrapped his arms around him. It might have been close to suicide, but at least he had the advantage of being an outsider; Yuri might not _immediately_ claw his eyes out.

“What the-” Yuri snarled, twitching back without fully dislodging his hold.

“It's okay. Just breathe.” Guang-Hong let out a soft sigh of relief when Yuri at least stopped growling. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He tilted his head as Viktor moved closer, dropping down to kneel in front of Yuri and resting a hand on his knee.

“It's okay to be scared.”

Yuri bared his teeth with a snarl. “I'm not-”

“Do you want the baby?” Guang-Hong asked softly, tensing as he felt several pairs of eyes settle on him.

Yuri glanced away, pressing his hand against his stomach as his ears twitched. “I'd make a terrible parent.”

Yuuri scoffed and stepped closer. “If that were true, I'd never leave the kits with you unsupervised.”

Guang-Hong pulled back as Yuuri settled on Yuri’s other side, tilting his head as he studied the blond. Yuri wasn't that upset about finding out he was... pregnant (he didn't even want to try to fathom how that was possible right now), he was more upset about Otabek. He glanced down at Viktor. “Is being a sacrifice the only way outsiders are allowed in?”

Viktor glanced up in surprise before smiling. “Of course not!” He looked back at Phichit. “Diplomatic visit?”

Phichit raised an eyebrow, drumming his fingers against his arm before grinning. “Diplomatic consort.”

Yuri twitched as he straightened. “Haaa?”

“Perfect!” Viktor snapped his fingers and stood. “What do you say? Let us bring Otabek here. He won't be a sacrifice.”

Yuri hissed and rubbed at his stomach before slumping. “Fine.”

“I'll get him, it'll be the quickest,” said Phichit.

Seung-gil turned a disapproving glare on him. “You're exhausted.”

Phichit scoffed. “What kind of mage would I be if I can't even do a simple teleport?”

“ _Simple_?”

Phichit grinned, his expression softening a bit as Seung-gil continued glaring. “One way teleport,” he said, resting his hand on Seung-gil’s shoulder. “Promise I'll be careful.”

“Wait.” Yuri reached up and pulled something like a stick out of his hair, the end carved into a sleeping cat. “So he knows I sent you...” he muttered, handing it over.

Phichit took it with a look of amusement. “Thanks.” He moved his fingers through the air and Guang-Hong could almost _see_ the magic twirling and folding around him in response. He leaned closer to Seung-gil and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek a moment before he vanished.

“Idiot.” Seung-gil turned to leave, pausing with a glance to Yuri. “Make sure you drink something. And eat whatever you think you can keep down.”

Yuuri stood. “I'll make some tea. Can you eat some toast?”

“Maybe.” Yuri sighed and slumped back against the table, fingers twitching where he pressed them against his stomach.

Guang-Hong glanced at the others and somehow wasn't surprised to find Leo had slipped away at some point. “How long does it take to travel here?”

Yuri eyed him, shifting to prop an arm on the table with a soft snort. “If he takes Baron, a couple hours maybe.”

“Is Baron his horse?”

Yuri’s smirk widened. “More like his bear.”

Guang-Hong stared. Right. If Yuri had a giant cat, of _course_ his “diplomatic consort” would have a giant bear he could ride. What else would he ride?

This wasn't just some twisted dream, was it? Gods, kitsune, magic, giant cats and bears... What was next, being told he should mate with one of them?

He tensed and sat up with a flinch, glancing at Yuuri. He’d been a sacrifice, and now he was with Viktor. With kits. Why hadn't he realized sooner? Any sacrifice who came in either stayed or... returned home within a few weeks. The rare exceptions were the royal sacrifices, and now that he thought about it, there always seemed to be rumors of them disappearing for days or a week at a time.

“Who was I brought here for?”

Viktor lifted his head from where he'd been resting it on Yuuri’s shoulder. “What?” His eyes flicked toward Yuri before settling on Guang-Hong.

He curled his fingers into fists and took a steadying breath. “Sacrifice. To be given up. Who am I supposed to be sacrificed _to_?”

“That's not-”

“ _Who_?!”

Viktor pulled away from Yuuri with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “Phichit thought you might get along well with Leo, but-”

“ _Leo_?” They thought he'd get along with _Leo_?

“I know you two got off on the wrong foot, but he's really-”

Guang-Hong stood abruptly enough Viktor stopped talking, anger and something like panic swelling up inside him. “If I don't... If I _don't_....” He flicked his fingers. “I can't stay?”

Viktor let out a long breath through his nose. “Not usually, no.”

He sucked in a breath at the feeling of being punched in the gut. He nodded and turned to head back towards the house. How was that fair? He needed a minute to... let the implications of it all sink in. So that was it. He was basically... here to be married off? He shut the door behind him when he reached it and sank down onto the couch. Was this how his sister felt when their father arranged her marriage with someone she hardly knew? Like everything was about to come crashing down around her? How many times could his life change directions in just a few days?

He was overreacting, wasn't he? Would it really be so bad, being someone's husband? He may not have dwelt on it too much, but he'd always imagined he'd be able to find someone he could comfortably spend the rest of his life with. Eventually. After he somehow escaped his family's business.

That certainly wouldn't be possible with Leo. Not when Leo despised him for no reason. Why _him_ anyway? Leo obviously didn't want anything to do with... _him_... Which meant Leo _knew_ why he was here?

And didn't... want him...

Oh.

That certainly put things in perspective. No wonder he'd said to leave. Somehow it hurt, knowing he'd been brought here specifically for someone who couldn't even stand to look at him. What did that mean? That no matter what he did, he'd eventually be sent back home? That he’d been given a chance at a different life and might be sent back into his life of sleepless nights and blood-soaked clothing, because a... a blind-date went horribly wrong?

He dragged himself to the bedroom, glancing to the window and jumping as he saw Yuuri standing there.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” Yuuri smiled, propping his chin on his crossed arms. “You okay?”

Guang-Hong sighed and dropped onto the bed. “‘M fine....” He glanced up at Yuuri, twisting the sheet in his fingers. “Is that really the only way to stay here?”

“I don't know, I've only been here a few years. Other than JJ, any of the other sacrifices have gone to the other villages.” Yuuri pushed his glasses up. “I think in the end, they can vote to let you stay.”

But how likely would that be? He was already off to a bad start. “Why do they need us anyway?”

Yuuri hummed and drummed his fingers against the sill. “They're a dying race. Or they were, for a while. They're stabilising now, but... females are rare; Klara is the first female born to her generation. Inari granted them a gift that allows the males to bear children, but there's still too few of them to be able to mate with each other.” He shrugged with a sheepish smile. “At least that's what I've put together since coming here.”

“And you were brought here for Viktor?”

“Ah... not really. I wasn't selected with anyone specific in mind as far as I know. The ritual they used to have was a festive gathering to see who took a liking to who, and I was nervous and... drank half the wine. I woke up in Viktor’s bed without remembering anything.” He laughed and rubbed his nose. “I punched Chris trying to run away. I think they stopped having the ritual after that. Sorry.”

Guang-Hong groaned and flopped back on the bed.

Yuuri sighed. “I know you feel lost and completely out of your element, but you have time to get to know everyone. We can invite some others from the other villages if you want. I doubt they'd force you to leave. You’re not expected to just hook up with someone within a week.”

“What happened to JJ?”

“JJ was... a mutual parting of ways...” Guang-Hong lifted his head enough to eye Yuuri. “He didn't exactly get along with anyone. He was the one who asked to leave.”

“I have a feeling Yuri threatened to castrate him if he didn’t,” he muttered, smiling faintly as Yuuri laughed. Still, that made him feel a little better. He sighed and dropped his head back to the bed. “Okay,” he murmured. “I'll stop sulking.”

“Is this sulking or panicking?”

He winced and groaned again. “Both?” He crawled off the bed with a sigh. He couldn't really be upset at finding out, he'd wanted to know his purpose here after all. Apparently he hadn't learned the lesson that curiosity killed the cat. Maybe if he hadn't gone snooping through his father's bookkeeping all those years ago, he wouldn’t have been pushed so far into taking an active part in the business.

“Come on, help me keep Yurio from going on a rampage. He’s nervous, but he won’t admit to it.”

Guang-Hong smiled faintly. “Over the baby or his consort?”

Yuuri laughed. “Both, but because of Otabek more, I think. He’s done his best to keep him secret.”

He raised an eyebrow at that as he headed out of the bedroom to join Yuuri outside. “Why?”

“He doesn’t like showing weakness.”

“Ah.” There was a sentiment he could understand, though he was doing an atrociously poor job of not showing his own weaknesses. “Sorry I’ve been a mess,” he murmured, smiling faintly as Yuuri slung an arm around his shoulders. “...Are there any other surprises I should know about though? I’d rather get all the shock out of my system now.”

Yuuri chuckled. “I don’t think so. And trust me, you’re not going to be expected to... you know, before you’re ready. Enjoy yourself, get to know everyone, and don’t worry about trying to force something.”

Guang-Hong took a deep breath and nodded. “That’s basically what Chris said.”

“Oh? When did you talk to Chris about it?”

He flushed a bit and ducked his head. “Last night.” He bit his tongue against the urge to mention the... silence spell. He wasn’t sure why he felt he could trust and open up to Yuuri, but he was sure it had something with his ‘mother hen’ aura. “He seems nice.”

“Everyone is pretty nice. Even Leo, when he’s not being obstinate.” Yuuri squeezed his shoulders. “Are you still wanting to help out? If you don’t mind some manual labor, with Emil on patrol we don’t have anyone to fix any tools that break or dull. You any good at that?”

“Maybe.” He’d cared for his own knives and swords, he’d be able to at least sharpen things.

“Yurio can show you around. It’ll keep him occupied until the famous Otabek arrives.”

Guang-Hong glanced at him with a faint smile. “Are you pawning the kits off on us, too?”

“I’m not that cruel.” He snorted quietly, straightening when Yuuri pulled his arm away and moved to join Viktor where he was sitting across from Yuri. “Yurio, why don’t you show Guang-Hong the shed?”

Yuri looked up from picking at his toast. “Why? It’s right over there.” He raised an eyebrow and stared back at Yuuri until he sighed.

“You’re so stubborn.” Yuuri leaned into Viktor with a roll of his eyes.

Guang-Hong snorted softly as the three of them bickered, filling a glass with some of the flavored tea and settling next to Yuri. Viktor pulled out a deck of cards and they taught him how to play Spielen. Yuri turned out to be quite the devious tactician and he knew the other two well enough to know when to call them out. To be fair, it wasn’t all that hard to break their codes once he learned they used the game as an excuse to call each other sickeningly sweet pet names.

They had lunch and had gone through several more rounds, each more frenetic than the last, when they heard a commotion and what sounded like a very large animal thundering closer. He looked up in time to see a giant bear skid to a stop nearby and a tall, dark-haired human dropped from its back holding a long spear.

“Yura!”

Yuri straightened, his golden ears twitching wildly as he turned towards Otabek. “Beka.”

Otabek dropped the spear as he fell into a crouch in front of Yuri before he could stand, reaching for his hands and pressing the hair ornament into them. “It’s true?” he asked quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just found out, idiot,” Yuri snapped.

Guang-Hong watched them from the corner of his eye as he helped gather up the cards. He didn’t miss the way Yuri relaxed and clutched at Otabek’s hands, or the fact he was _smiling_ despite the tone. It was faint, but it was there.

“You didn’t have to come.”

Otabek narrowed his eyes. “Yura, if you think there is any way I am leaving knowing you’re carrying my child-” he started, his words cutting off as Yuri pressed two fingers to his lips. He huffed against them before pulling back to look at the rest of them, his gaze landing on Viktor and Yuuri. “You must be the ones he calls the idiot duo.”

“BEKA!”

“Oh, is that what he calls us?” Viktor propped his chin up on his fist. “Yuuri, did you know he had such a vulgar name for us?”

Yuuri handed the rest of the cards to Guang-Hong. “I figured he called us something. Honestly, I thought it’d be worse.”

Yuri groaned and slumped forward to press his face into Otabek’s shoulder. “I hate you.”

“That’s going to make raising a child together difficult.”

Guang-Hong couldn’t help grinning as he saw Yuri’s neck going red.

Viktor chuckled. “Maybe you should take Otabek home. You two have a lot to discuss.”

Yuri grumbled before yelping as Otabek scooped him up. “Dammit, Beka, put me down!”

“Where’s your home? I want to see it.” Otabek nodded to them before turning and carrying a loudly protesting Yuri towards his home.

“Don’t miss dinner!” Yuuri called after them, snorting when Yuri gave them the middle finger in response. “That went well.”

Viktor grinned. “Our family is growing.” He kissed Yuuri’s temple and stood, looking to Guang-Hong. “Come on, I’ll show you to the tools if you still want to try your hand at them.”

Halfway there, he heard a loud growl and turned just in time to see Sasha leap through the air and pounce on Otabek’s bear. He shook her off and they circled each other with bared teeth until they butted heads and... rubbed against each other. Well then. Apparently they got along as well as their owners.

He glanced to Viktor when he chuckled and they continued to the shed. It was simple enough, and all the tools and supplies were kept neat and organized.

“Thank you. For helping Yurio earlier.”

Guang-Hong glanced up at Viktor with a smile. “It was fun. I haven't played cards in ages.”

Viktor shook his head. “No, I mean when you helped calm him down... He has a tendency to overreact to things.”

He shrugged, glancing away and fiddling with a small tub of spare parts. “He was panicking.” He'd done that enough himself to know it helped if someone was there to make you breathe. He looked up in surprise as Viktor rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry I made you upset. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

Guang-Hong smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

Viktor patted his shoulder. “Holler if you need anything.”

He watched Viktor go and let out a sigh as he looked back to the tools. There was a pedal-powered grinding stone in the corner and he wrinkled his nose, poking through the supplies until he found some whetstones. There were a couple daggers dull enough they wouldn’t even cut his skin and he settled in to work on sharpening them.

Caring for his weapons had always been a task he could put his whole into, despite knowing what he’d have to use them for. His weapons were just objects until given a purpose, and objects were useless if they weren’t cared for.

He soon lost himself in the rhythmic scrape of stone on metal. It was soothing. Relaxing. Tension eased out of him and he found himself humming tunelessly as he finished the first one. He grabbed a thick strip of leather to swipe the blade on, testing its edge and setting it aside when he found it sharp. He picked up another and was just finishing with it when he noticed someone watching him, looking up to find Leo at the entrance.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. It dissipated when Leo ignored him, stepping inside and setting an axe and a large knife on the table. So he was back to being a jerk. He sighed and turned his attention back to the dagger.

“You're not needed here.”

He tensed, aware Leo meant _he_ didn't need him here, but that didn't matter, did it? “Someone thought so.” He sighed and lifted his head as he felt the warnings of a headache; he really didn't want to deal with an argument when he'd just found something to distract him. “Don't you have more important things to do?”

Leo’s ears twitched and he bared his teeth a moment before leaving with a huff.

Guang-Hong sighed and slumped on the stool once he was alone again, finishing the dagger and picking up the knife. He wasn't sure what he should do about Leo. Should he avoid him, or try to befriend him? Part of him wanted to know why Leo seemed to hate him so much, but it wasn't worth the headache.

Once he finished sharpening everything, he cleaned up and explored the rest of the shed. Other than the grinding stone, the only other large equipment was a small forge built into a back corner. Shelves lined the walls, most will jars or spare parts, though one was filled with trinkets with a box of metal and wood pieces beneath. On closer inspection, the trinkets were tiny figurines of various shapes and sizes - over two dozen plants and animals and a larger one that covered his hand and looked like a dragonfly. The delicate metal wings were practically transparent, enough he could see his hand through them, and the eyes were tiny black, faceted gems. He grinned as he moved a wing and they both moved simultaneously. Whoever made it was gifted.

He set it back on the shelf and headed back to see if Yuuri needed help with dinner. The sun was lower than it should have been, which meant he'd lost more time than he thought. Viktor was lounging at the table while Yuuri set bowls and plate of food out, tugging him closer every time he brought a new one over to steal a kiss. Their kits were nearby, playing chase with the bear and tiger. He paused halfway, not wanting to intrude, but Viktor spotted him and waved him over.

“We were about to summon everyone for dinner.”

“You were about to eat half the potatoes before Yurio could get to them,” Yuri said with a snort.

Viktor gasped. “I would never deprive an innocent soul of potatoes.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow as he dropped down at the table. After seeing the two of them fighting over the last piece of bacon, he didn’t believe that. “You’re talking about the baby aren’t you?”

Viktor winked. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe.” Yuri set a plate of biscuits on the table before poking the top of Viktor’s head. “Go rouse the troops, you fiend.”

Viktor stood and swatted Yuri with his tail on his way out.

Guang-Hong snagged a biscuit. “This looks delicious. You made all of this?”

“Viktor helped a bit.” Yuuri filled two glasses with tea and set one in front of him as he sat across from him.

The others trickled in a few minutes later. Yuri and Otabek followed after Viktor, fingers laced together, and even from the table, he could see the scowl and flush on Yuri’s face. They sat next to each other at the end of the table, Yuri next to Guang-Hong with Otabek on the end. Viktor setted the kits next to Yuuri before sitting on their other side, and Chris took a seat on Guang-Hong’s other side. Leo sat on Chris’ other side and he was grateful for the barrier between him and the surly fox. Emil arrived with Seung-gil and he tilted his head, glancing at Yuuri with a slight frown. Wasn’t he on patrol, or was he getting their names mixed up?

Yuuri caught his eye with a faint smile. “Emil brought Phichit back. He passed out on the way. I don’t think he’ll be waking up before tomorrow.” He shook his head with a sigh. “He really shouldn’t have teleported.”

“He was that exhausted?”

Emil sat on Yuuri’s other side and Seung-gil next to him, his expression rivaling Leo’s for most constipated. “Magical exhaustion is different, and worse, than just being tired. He could have gotten himself killed,” Seung-gil all but growled.

“But he didn’t. No sense worrying about it now,” Chris said, snagging a biscuit before he started scooping food onto his plate.

Seung-gil clenched his fist on top of the table, grinding his teeth.

“So. Otabek. How long are you staying with us?” Viktor asked, smiling blithely as the tension at the table eased considerably.

“Until the child is old enough to start a family of its own.”

Yuri spit tea across the table, narrowly missing Viktor’s face. “Are you _insane_?”

Otabek tilted his head. “No.”

Yuri’s mouth moved, but no sounds came out, until he finally groaned and buried his face in his arms.

Guang-Hong bit his lip to keep from laughing, digging into his food as Yuuri and Viktor drilled Otabek with questions about his home and why he’d never visited earlier. Apparently, Otabek had asked once, only for Yuri to deny him, and he hadn’t dared to ask again. His kingdom was responsible for much of the ore and fur trade to the other kingdoms, and his family regulated both to prevent eradication of either.

He blinked as Chris leaned into him as they were finishing their meal. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“I... hadn’t thought about it,” Guang-Hong replied, a shiver going up his spine. Chris wasn’t... was he?

“Interested in a swim?”

“Uh... I don’t have a swimsuit,” he replied, sounding lame even to his own ears.

Chris smirked and shrugged. “Go naked. I usually do.” Guang-Hong turned red, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the squeak. “Kidding, kidding!” Chris chuckled and reached for his drink. “I’m sure someone has one you can borrow.”

“O-okay. I might just... sit on the bank and watch?”

“Don’t like swimming?”

Guang-Hong flushed and picked up his own drink. “Um... not sure.” He cringed as he felt Chris eyeing him and sighed. “I’ve never been.”

“Really? Huh.” Chris shrugged. “Want to learn?”

He bit his lip as he considered. He was tempted to go back to the house and read, but he really should try to spend time with them, right? And Chris wasn’t so bad. He might have actually been... not cute, but... sexy? “Sure.” What exactly was he getting himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the comments on this fic are half of what keep me writing it rofl - long fics are so hard to finish. x.x

“There's no snakes in here, is there?” Guang-Hong stared down at the water where he stood ankle deep in the pond. He wore a pair of Yuuri’s swim trunks, though he still wasn't sure he actually wanted to get _in_ the water.

Chris chuckled where he stood a few feet out, the water up to his stomach. “Probably, but they won't hurt you.”

He grimaced and took a step back. “How can you be so sure?”

“Vitya and Phichit spent a week spelling the entire village to make it kit-friendly. Trust me, you're safe.” Chris stepped closer, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers.

Guang-Hong sighed and stepped into the water, shivering as the cool liquid inched up his legs as he waded out and took Chris’ hand.

Chris smiled and guided him closer to the center of the pond, until the water was up to Guang-Hong’s chest. “You've really never been swimming before?”

“I didn't live near any rivers or oceans. And I had other things to focus on.”

“Like training to be a warrior.”

He glanced away before nodding. “More or less.” He tensed as Chris tugged him further out, grabbing onto his other arm to stay afloat.

“I've got you; use your feet.” Chris shifted closer, resting his hands against Guang-Hong’s back and side. “You don't like talking about it.” Chris raised an eyebrow as he moved in a slow, wide circle. “What did you do for fun?”

“Read mostly.” Outside of caring for his weapons, the library was his favorite place to escape to. He'd started his own collection of books before age ten and he'd _hated_ having to choose which ones to bring with him and which ones had to stay behind.

“Oh? What do you like to read?”

Guang-Hong flushed and clamped his mouth shut against the initial urge to talk about his favorites. His father always frowned upon his choice of reading material and especially on his “lack of control” when he started talking about them. “Historical fiction...”

“Have you read _A Firefly’s Demise_?”

He looked up with a thrill of surprise. “It's one of my favorites.”

“Mine too.” Chris winked. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Flynn. Yours?”

“Antoine.”

Guang-Hong snorted, somehow not surprised. “Too much of a playboy.”

“You think so?”

“He flirted with _everyone_. Besides, he's the one who betrayed them.”

“He was trying to save them.” Chris’ lips twitched in amusement as Guang-Hong made a soft, non-committal grunt. “You don’t like flirts?”

He flushed and stared at Chris’ chest, biting his lip since there was no way he could answer that. It wasn’t exactly that he didn’t like them; he wasn’t used to them turning their attentions to _him_. He tilted his head as he realised Chris wasn’t holding onto him outside of a hand against his side and he was keeping himself up, mostly. He lifted his hands off Chris’ arms, sinking down to his chin and grabbing back on with a surge of panic.

“Almost.” Chris caught him and pulled him back up. “Is reading the only thing you do for fun?”

“No...” He bit his lip as he got his buoyancy again. “I like to dance,” he added softly. He was _good_ at it, too, though his father hated it. The only reason he had the chance to indulge as much as he had was his trainer insisted it was perfect for training to fight.

Chris shifted closer. “I’d love to see that sometime.”

“O-okay.”

Chris chuckled and moved back, sliding his hands to Guang-Hong’s hips. “Breathe deeper, it’ll help you stay afloat. You need to use your arms like your feet to tread water, too.”

Guang-Hong took a deeper breath and nodded, clutching at Chris’ arms a moment before letting go. When Chris kept him from immediately sinking, he used his arms, squeaking as he splashed Chris on accident. He huffed when Chris laughed at him. “How are you staying up without your arms?”

“Mm, practice. And I have a tail.” 

Guang-Hong jumped as said tail brushed against his leg. At least he _hoped_ it was a tail.

“Here, try floating on your back instead.” Chris tugged him around, pressing a solid hand against his upper back. “Lift up your legs.”

He flailed as he leaned back, sucking in a quick, sharp breath before forcing himself to relax. He stared up at the stars, letting out a slow breath and glancing to Chris. “Do you do this with all the sacrifices?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, sinking further into the water without moving his hands until they were on a more equal eye level. “Some of them. You’re the first to be here at the right time.”

“Right time for what?”

Chris smiled and glanced up at the stars. “You’ll see in a minute. The heart of summer is one of the best times to be here; you get to see magic in its purest.”

He turned his attention back to the sky, but the magic came from the pond. It was subtle at first, but by the time he noticed the faint light, it was spreading faster, the water illuminating with a brilliant blue glow. “Oh wow,” he breathed, dropping his legs and only realizing after that Chris hadn’t been holding him up anymore. “What is this?” He turned towards Chris, his breath catching in his throat as he found glowing green eyes mere inches from his.

“Magic.” Chris grinned, flicking water at him before swimming backwards. “Congratulations on staying afloat.”

Guang-Hong snorted quietly, splashing water back at him. The pond grew steadily brighter, like a dozen blue lights were set on the bottom. The dark shapes of fish swam all around them and he saw something like a turtle in the distance, but nothing came within a couple feet of them. “Does it do this every night?”

“Nope. Twice a year, on the solstices.”

Part of him wanted to ask why the others weren’t out here to witness it, but if they lived here, they’d seen it dozens of times already. “It’s beautiful.” It only lasted a few minutes, and then all that was left was an afterimage of gorgeous blue in his eyes. He looked back to Chris with a smile. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome.” Chris floated on his back, though Guang-Hong didn’t miss that he stayed within reach.

He managed to float for a bit before he grew tired enough to head to shore, only sinking below the water once, and Chris was there to pull him back up. He grabbed the towel he'd brought and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“See you at breakfast?”

“I'll try to make it up in time.” He wiped water out of his eyes, glancing at Chris as they lingered at the pond. “Goodnight.” He turned and headed for the house before it could get any _more_ awkward. That hadn't been a _date_ or anything, right?

Maybe he should ask, but what if Chris was just being nice? He _had_ said he treated the other sacrifices like that... He groaned and let his head thunk against the door. Why was this happening to him?

He lifted his head and pushed the door open, pausing as he caught the quiet strain of a flute. He shouldn't go snooping, he'd already done that earlier, and even if it might have ended with him and Leo helping Yuri, he didn't have an excuse of looking for something in the middle of the night.

His feet ignored such reason, carrying him to the edge of the forest. He shouldn't go further. What if he got lost? No one would know where to look.

Sharp branches and rocks dug into his foot as soon as he stepped past the edge of the village. Apparently Viktor and Phichit had done a _very_ thorough job making the place kit-friendly. He hissed and grit his teeth as he tiptoed further in, following the flute. It grew louder as he neared a small clearing, peeking around an overgrown bush to see a kitsune sitting on a fallen tree.

Not just any kitsune; of _course_ it would be Leo. He ducked back behind the bush, biting his lip. He should go back, but the music was beautiful - slow and somber, and something about it made his chest ache, like he was longing for something, but he had no idea what.

He slumped into the nearest tree, resting his cheek against the soft moss covering it. No point in pretending he wasn't eavesdropping. He closed his eyes as he listened to the melody, part of him drawn to move closer, wanting to comfort Leo like he had Yuri, though he knew better; he could do without a newly sharpened knife in his stomach.

When he finally dared peek around the tree again, he found the clearing was _glowing_. Leo seemed to be wrapped in moonlight as the flicker of fireflies danced around him. He took an instinctive step forward, wanting to be part of the magic himself, and froze as Leo stopped playing, his ears twitching back, the glow slowly fading.

The spell broke and he stepped back with a gasp. _Crap_. Leo glanced in his direction and he swore those dark eyes saw him, a shiver traveling up his spine. He swore under his breath when Leo stood, pressing into the tree as if it would help hide him. He held his breath as he heard Leo walking towards him.

“As much as you enjoy spying, you're rather terrible at it.”

Guang-Hong groaned and slumped against the tree again, peeking up at Leo when he stopped in front of him. “As much as everyone says you're not a jerk, you're pretty determined to be one.”

Leo's ears twitched and it might have been a trick of the moonlight, but he almost looked amused. “You're not going to leave, are you?”

He lifted his chin and crossed his arms. “Why should I?”

Leo sighed. “Suit yourself.”

Guang-Hong blinked as Leo turned away, following as he headed back to the village. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don't.”

“You sure have a strange way of showing affection.”

Leo stopped at the edge of the forest. “I have no interest in Phichit’s games.”

“Great, neither do I.” He still needed to figure out what Phichit’s relationship with his father and his business was, but surely it had nothing to do with this. “Why does that mean you have to hate me?” He stepped in front of Leo and looked up at him, sighing when Leo refused to meet his eyes. “I'd like to at least be given a chance. We could be friends at least... Please?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” What kind of question was that?

Leo’s ears twitched as he finally looked at Guang-Hong. “Why do you care so much that we get along?”

Wasn't that obvious? “Because if I'm going to live here from now on that basically makes you all my family. At least the only ones I'll see everyday.” It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought Leo looked... contrite? That was a step in the right direction at least. He hoped.

“Fine.”

Guang-Hong blinked. “Really?” He clamped his mouth shut, biting at his lip when Leo flattened his ears. “I mean... great! So you get to stop growling at me, and I get to stop being growled at.” He smiled and tightened his towel around his shoulders, stepping back before Leo could change his mind. “G’night!”

He turned and hurried back to the house, slipping inside and flopping onto the bed with a grin, drifting to sleep feeling like a weight had lifted off him.

The next morning was an awkward breakfast with Chris and Leo glaring at each other and the others pretending they didn’t exist. He eyed them both from the corner of his eye as he shoveled food into his mouth, wondering what the hell had bit them in the night. Maybe it was a kitsune thing. Leo must not smell like ‘Fuck off’ anymore and Chris was taking offense. At least that’s what he told himself before making a hasty escape to the shed before he could get caught up in... whatever was going on. He'd _just_ made peace with Leo, he wasn't about to screw it up now.

There were a couple new daggers waiting in need of sharpening and he took his time working on them, cleaning them as well to bide his time until lunch, which was far more peaceful.

The afternoon found him sweating in the gardens with the kits, watching as they tore up weeds with perfect precision and coaxed the flowers into blooming and producing the fruits and vegetables they needed for dinner. It was _fascinating_ watching the process sped up, to see them using magic to turn a budding flower into a tomato within a few minutes; almost fascinating enough to distract him from the sun boring into his neck and the beginnings of a migraine pounding behind his eyes.

He could almost see it like he had when Phichit vanished and teleported, the shift in the air that preceded the exploding scent of growing things. He grinned as Klara brought a squash into bloom. “That’s _amazing_. Can all kitsune do this?”

“Yes.” Kenji buried his hands in the dirt.

“What else can you do?”

Kenji looked up, glancing to his sister before looking around as if making sure his parents weren’t watching. “Water.”

“Water?”

Kenji nodded, shoving his hands further into the dirt. He growled softly, baring his teeth, and Guang-Hong swore he really could see _something_ like a swirl of blue and silver threading around him. A moment later, the ground trembled.

Guang-Hong yelped and jumped to his feet as he found himself sitting in mud. At least he tried to. The ground spun beneath and around him and he groaned, clutching at his head and rolling to his side as he lost all sense of balance. He winced as Klara’s screams created lances of pain behind his eyes.

He heard a roar over the loud ringing that started in his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the sharp, throbbing pain. He sank into the ground and despite the mild thought he might drown in the mud, it was cool, and the scent of wet earth somehow seemed to ease the pain enough he could breathe.

“ _Guang-Hong!_ ”

He gasped as hands grabbed his arm and pulled him from where he'd all but buried his face in the mud.

“What the hell happened?” Viktor asked, leaning over him enough he thankfully blocked the sun.

He cracked his eyes open as Phichit dropped down on his other side, absently noting the disarray of his clothes and sighing at the soothing scent of _sweet_ and _herbs_ that came with him.

“What the - Why is it so wet?”

Viktor jerked back as Yuuri picked up Klara, shushing her screaming, and Guang-Hong moaned in relief, his hands falling from their grip against his ears. “Yuri, please find Kenji.”

“He's likely at the shrine.”

“Guang-Hong.”

He groaned and turned his head towards Phichit, blinking until his blurred vision cleared enough to see Phichit’s face. He flinched as someone touched his forehead, smearing something across it, before sagging in relief. The same sweet-and-herb scent filled his nose as whatever it was numbed the pain. “What-?”

“Let's get him back home.”

Panic gripped his chest before he realized they had to mean the house and not _home_. He slumped into Viktor’s chest when he picked him up, wanting to protest that he could walk, but it was too difficult to make the thought form words.

“You didn't say he was sensitive.”

“It's not exactly foolproof; I'm just a mage.”

He caught glimpses of Phichit and Seung-gil following beside them though he only half-processed what they were saying. His ears were still ringing, though it was fading.

When they reached the house, Viktor set him on the sofa. He collapsed into it, blinking at Seung-gil as he knelt in front of him. Words still eluded him and he could do little more than watch Seung-gil dip his fingers in a bowl of strange green paste then proceed to smear it on his cheeks and tips of his ears. Cool tingling accompanied the sweet scent, and when he put some on Guang-Hong’s throat he coughed.

“Better?”

He groaned and coughed again before trying to speak. “Yes.”

Phichit dropped into the chair. “Well, at least we know now.”

Guang-Hong closed his eyes as Seung-gil added some of the paste to his temples, his entire body relaxing as the last of the ringing and mild ache vanished. “Know what?”

“That you have magical potential.”

He opened his eyes, squinting at Phichit before eyeing Viktor as he sat on the opposite arm of the couch.

“What happened?” Viktor asked.

“I was watching the kits in the gardens... and Kenji used his magic on some water and... I don't know. I felt dizzy and there was a ringing in my ears.” He stopped as he saw Viktor’s frown and pushed up to his elbow. “It wasn't his fault! I asked if they could do other things with magic and-”

Viktor sighed, waving a hand at him with a bemused look. “I know... Kenji’s gifts with magic are astounding, though he still lacks control. I'm just glad you're not hurt.”

Seung-gil sat on the edge of the table, setting the bowl of paste beside him. “You'll likely have a headache until your body stabilizes.”

Guang-Hong slumped back down with a groan. “What else is new?”

“You've been having headaches?” Phichit asked.

He shrugged. “It’s the heat.”

“You got sick when you first arrived, too,” Seung-gil added.

Guang-Hong grimaced at the reminder and closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at them. “The blood got to me.” It wasn't a complete lie; the blood _had_ caused it in a roundabout way. The door swung open, startling him enough to jerk upright.

“Oh good. You're okay.” Chris collapsed over the back of the sofa to catch his breath.

Guang-Hong stared at him with wide eyes as Viktor reached over to pluck a twig from Chris’ hair. “Take a nap in the forest again?”

“Every chance I get.” Chris lifted his head, winking at Viktor before turning his attention to Guang-Hong, raising an eyebrow as he looked him over. “You're a mess.”

He looked down at himself, only then really noticing the mud drying on his skin and clothes. He could feel it in his _hair_ too. Ugh. “I need a shower.”

“Use this if you feel dizzy again,” Seung-gil said, pointing to the bowl he left on the table as he stood. He headed for the door with the others following, Chris lingering behind.

“You're really okay?”

Guang-Hong smiled and managed to get to his feet without another incident. “Whatever Seung-gil used helped.” He paused as something Phichit said weighed on him. “...What does having magical potential mean?”

“A couple of things. Either that you're sensitive to magic and can sense it, or that you're like Phichit and can use it.”

 _Use_ magic? “Is there a way to tell which?”

“I'm sure Phichit has some special object that glows when you touch it,” Chris said dryly. “There is something we do with kits that shows how powerful their magic can be, if you want to try it.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t.” Chris stepped closer, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small seed.

Guang-Hong eyed the seed before holding his hand out to take it, staring at it and waiting for it to do... something. _Anything_. He flinched as Chris poked him in the center of his forehead and glanced up at him.

“Like this.” Chris put his hand beneath Guang-Hong’s, holding it as he used his other hand to fold Guang-Hong’s fingers closed over the seed. “Close your eyes.”

He raised an eyebrow before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck as Chris... massaged his fingers. Surprise quickly replaced any embarrassment as a tingling formed in his palm where the seed rested. He jumped as it moved and would have dropped it if not for Chris’ hands around his, opening his hand and staring at the tiny sprout in the seed. No way! “You did that.”

Chris scoffed, pulling his hands away with an affronted look. “You can’t prove that.”

Guang-Hong snorted quietly and poked the seed. “Now what do I do with it?”

“Mmm.” Chris went to the kitchen and found a cup, filling it with dirt from outside before holding it out. “Let it grow.”

“I’ve never planted anything before.” He poked the seed into the dirt, leaving the sprout exposed, before taking the cup. “I bet I’ll kill it.”

Chris laughed. “I’ll help you care for it. Water it and leave it in the sunlight. And then shower, you look like you lost a mud-fight with the kits.”

“Ha ha.”

“Well, at least I got half a laugh.” Chris winked and flicked his tail in farewell on his way out.

Guang-Hong shook his head and ran some water into the cup. He flipped the switch for the shower on his way to the bedroom, setting the cup in the window where it'd at least get morning light.

Once the water warmed, he set to work scrubbing the mud out of his hair. He watched the murky water swirl down the drain even as he wondered if he'd really been responsible for the seed sprouting. He'd watched the kits do it to a dozen plants that afternoon, but he'd never _felt_ anything, at least not until Kenji summoned the water.

Maybe he should ask Phichit if there was a way to know for sure, though he still wasn't sure how to approach him. Outside of Chris, Phichit was the only one who really knew what his family's main business was.

He could deal with it later.

He climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, retrieving the paste and dabbing some on his temples just in case the headache tried to come back.

He glanced to the window to check the sprout as he pulled out some clean clothes, staring at the peach sitting beside it. Had Leo..? Surely not. He leaned out the window, but there was no sign of Leo, or anyone else.

It wasn't a trick, right?

His breath hitched as he picked it up, unable to keep from grinning as he bit into it, and it was _so much_ better than the first ones he'd eaten; sweet and juicy and just shy of sun-warmed.

Peace offerings never tasted better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tumblr [here](https://leoji-prompts.tumblr.com/) for those interested.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rope might be catching fire...

Several blissful days passed without any further incidents. He did what he could with the tools until Emil returned from patrol, and then Emil spent an entire afternoon showing him how he made the tiny trinkets from scrap metal. Some were special orders he received each time Mila and Sara passed through with their supplies and trade goods, which people paid for with raw materials or clothing, or things they couldn't produce in the village, like chocolate.

With Emil back, it was Chris' turn for patrol, and Guang-Hong couldn't help the relief that came with that news, though guilt followed close behind.

It wasn't like he didn't _like_ Chris - quite the opposite actually. Chris made a point to show him a new part of the village or forest every chance he got, and he was _funny_. The stories he told of Viktor and Yuuri spazzing out when they first found out they were having kits, or Phichit’s mishaps with experimental spells, complete with impersonations, had him crying with laughter. As record keeper, he certainly knew how to remember the important parts.

And it wasn't like he wasn't... _interested_ either, but Chris hadn't made any overt indications and he wasn't sure he could make the first move himself. Maybe a few days apart would help him figure out how to handle it.

In the meantime, he helped where he could with various chores and learned just how much work Yuuri put into making such large meals. He made it look effortless, but since his family ran an inn, that was only to be expected. Viktor turned out to be an amazing cook himself and Guang-Hong learned he'd been responsible for most meals before Yuuri arrived, though he apparently enjoyed experimenting and creating new recipes a _bit_ too much.

He finally worked up the nerve to seek out Phichit a couple days after Chris left. He did in fact have a strange object that tested magical potential, and it hinted that he could use magic. He hadn't tried anything yet, still wary of the effect it would have on his body, though Phichit assured him once he acclimated to the environment and innate magic surrounding him it wouldn't be an issue anymore. Still... just the thought that he might be able to use _magic_... He wasn't sure how to process that. It just wasn't _possible_. Magic was a thing of legend, at least as far as it concerned humans. The kitsune were the exception.

Somehow he'd been talked into watching the kits in the gardens in the afternoons, with the promise of them not using anything more than nature magic. He didn't mind too much, though after the second day he found his eyes straying to where the animals roamed on the other side of the village. It wasn't until he found himself staring at Leo tending to the horses he realized why.

They hadn't really talked since forming the truce, nothing outside of greetings during meals, but at least they'd been pleasant enough. He hadn't been lying when he said he wanted them to be friends and he'd felt a persistent urge to seek Leo out ever since he found the peach.

He left the kits to their gardening when he couldn't ignore that urge any longer, making his way across the village and leaning against the fence near Leo. “You're good with the animals.”

Leo glanced towards him, ears flicking twice before he shrugged. “I guess so.”

Well, it was better than a glare and an insult so he wasn't about to be discouraged. He crossed his arms over the splintered wood and enjoyed the breeze. “Do you ride them?”

“Only for patrol or travel to another village.”

“I've never ridden before.” There weren't many in the cities anymore, not with the steam-powered transports becoming more reliable. The closest he'd come to them was riding the horse-drawn carriages. He tilted his head as he noticed Leo eyeing him. “What?”

Leo shrugged, continuing to brush until the chestnut coat gleamed. “Humans have lost touch with nature. What do you even do in your stone houses and treeless cities?”

“They're not treeless.” They weren't exactly a forest either though. Compared to the village, the cities were indeed void of trees outside of the small parks or nicer neighborhoods. His own family's estate had only a single old tree and the small garden his mother tended.

He picked at a splinter of wood. “I spent a lot of time reading.” Not nearly as much time as training, but he wasn't sure Leo would be as understanding as Chris about _that_ information.

“Reading what?”

“...Historical fiction.” He ignored the urge to say more, propping his chin on his arms and blinking as he found Leo staring at him. “What?” he asked, maybe a bit too defensively, but he didn't like the way Leo’s ears were twitching at him.

“You're lying.”

“I am not!” He felt the flush creeping up his neck as he glared.

Leo raised an eyebrow, staring at him as he gave up brushing the horse and shifted to lean against its shoulder instead. “You're not telling the whole truth then.”

“And how would you know?”

Leo smirked as he crossed his arms. “Your scent changed.”

“My scent.” What did that even _mean_? “What do I smell like?”

“Lies and mortification,” he said, his smirk widening enough Guang-Hong really felt like punching him. Leo was an _ass,_ no doubt about it.

He could feel how red his face was, but it was almost worth it because somehow he was _ecstatic_ that Leo was even speaking to him, let alone... teasing him? “You're an ass,” he grumbled.

“So I'm told. Are you going to tell me what you really read or not?”

“Are you going to tell me what I really smell like?”

Leo shrugged, moving to the other side of the horse to continue brushing, only his nose to his ears visible over its back. “Sure, but I asked first.”

Guang-Hong stifled a groan. “Historical fiction wasn't a lie,” he growled. “Most of them just happened to have... romantic overtones.”

“And?”

He glared at Leo, taking a deep breath and looking away as he added, “Gay romantic overtones.” He wasn't even sure why he thought that would be a big deal considering Yuuri and Viktor were obviously together, as well as Yuri and Otabek, and he was sure Phichit and Seung-gil were too, but... if it came down to the survival of your species, he supposed a lot of prejudices could be overcome.

“Humans aren't so accepting of such relationships I take it?”

“Some are... My family isn't.” He shrugged and slumped against the fence, peeking back at Leo after a moment and watching him work. The soft sound of bristles through hair were oddly soothing, slow and methodical enough he felt much like the drowsing horse.

“Sweet.”

He blinked, lifting his head when he realized he really had heard Leo say that. “What?”

“Your scent. It smells sweet.”

“Sweet,” he repeated, as if saying it aloud would help him understand what that smelled like. “I smell like sugar?”

Leo snorted, moving around the horse to switch out brushes. “More like sun-ripened fruit. And sometimes like... hot steel.”

Guang-Hong flushed again, biting his tongue before he could ask how someone could smell like steel. “Does everyone smell different?”

“Everyone I've ever met has. Some say the humans in cities all smell alike though.”

“Why's that?”

Leo shrugged. “Either because they live crammed together, or because they lack any tie to magic.”

“Mmm, but all the humans who come here smell different.”

“Of course. All sacrifices have some bit of magic, no matter how small.”

He must have made some kind of noise because Leo turned to look at him. Maybe it was just his scent changing with his surprise. “All of them?”

Leo's ears flicked as he nodded. “There's a barrier around all the villages and most of the forest. Anyone without magic can't pass through unless it's op- ...What's wrong?”

Guang-Hong shook his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “They knew I had magic? Before bringing me here?”

Leo shrugged. “It's not too hard to tell; magic calls to magic. But I doubt anyone knew you'd be as sensitive as you are.”

“Why not?”

“Because humans and magic are strange.”

Guang-Hong made a face and tried not to take offense to that. “...So Yuuri has magic, too?”

“I guess.” Leo paused to clean out the brush. “He's not sensitive to it though. The only thing magical that's happened is they had kits before they were trying for them,” he added with a snicker.

Guang-Hong decided he really didn't want to pursue that topic. If he did end up living here long enough to... want to have kids, he'd deal with it then. “Can I try?”

Leo glanced up at him. “Brushing the horse?”

Guang-Hong flushed as he realised that could have sounded like trying to _have kits_ and he stifled a groan as he nodded. When Leo shrugged he climbed over the fence. He took the brush and eyed the horse a moment before pressing the soft bristles against its side, hoping it didn't kick him. He jerked back when it shifted and made a soft nickering sound.

“Easy. If you're nervous, you'll make her nervous.”

Guang-Hong tensed as Leo stepped up behind him, shifting to hand over the brush as Leo reached for it. His eyes widened when Leo grasped his hand instead, guiding it back to the horse and pressing the brush against it.

“Step closer.” Leo's other hand rested on Guang-Hong’s hip to nudge him forward and Guang-Hong was too shocked to do anything but comply. “Brush in the direction of the hair. See how it changes here?”

He looked to where Leo pointed, near the hindquarters where the hair fanned out and up, and nodded. Leo’s hand held his in a firm grip as he guided the brush in long, slow strokes. Warmth crept up his neck. He could _feel_ the heat of Leo's body behind him, felt the soft rushes of air from Leo's breaths in his hair, the solid strength in his fingers. And then there was a hint of pressure near his ear and he froze as he swore Leo _smelled_ him.

Leo jerked away as if scalded, leaving Guang-Hong’s back feeling cold as he stalked towards the barn without a word.

Guang-Hong nearly dropped the brush, clutching at his shirt with his other hand. His heart pounded in his chest hard enough it _hurt_ and he couldn't seem to breathe _._ What the hell? What was he getting so worked up about? He'd never reacted like that with Chris. Then again, Chris had never _smelled him_ before either. 

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the horse. The musty scent of animal and grass and dust made him sneeze, but at least it was a distraction. The horse didn't like it too much, shifting and stepping away from him as she turned her head to eye him. He stuck his tongue out in response, dropping the brush into the bucket with a grumble and climbing back over the fence.

He should probably go back to watching the kits with their magic, but he felt a bit too lightheaded for that. He headed to the meal area instead, glancing over his shoulder as he heard Leo shaking a bucket of something. Likely oats by the way the horse perked up and trotted towards him. He paused long enough to watch Leo feed her from his hand, resting his forehead on hers and patting her neck. He rubbed at his chest as it ached again before forcing himself to turn away. Whatever it was, maybe getting in some proper exercise and practice would clear his mind.

Guang-Hong settled at the table, crossing his legs and leaning back against it.

Yuuri glanced over with a smile, flour coating his hands and a white smear on his cheek from the bread he was making. Guang-Hong bit his lip against a laugh as he noticed a white handprint on Yuuri’s ass. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was wanting to practice actually. Do you have a sword I could borrow?”

Yuuri tilted his head, swiping his forearm against his brow. “Viktor has one he might let you use. You know how to use a sword?”

“A little.”

“Really? Viktor’s tried to teach me a couple times, but I’m better with a chef’s knife.” He grabbed a damp towel and covered the bowl with it. “I think he’s in the house with the blue door.”

“Do you need any help?”

Yuuri stretched with a soft groan. “No, I think I’m going to terrorize my children for a bit,” he said with a grin, stripping off his apron and cleaning his hands on it.

“Don’t you mean let them terrorize you?”

“Ha. I watched their births, my brats don’t scare me.”

Guang-Hong smirked, watching Yuuri head to the gardens and sneak up on the kits. Yuuri scooped Kenji up with a loud growl and Klara screamed, running into his legs to knock him down. He shook his head and got to his feet, their laughter echoing through the village as he headed to the house with the blue door and knocked.

“Come in!”

He stepped inside, spotting Viktor perched on the edge of a large desk, looking through a book.

Viktor looked up in surprise before smiling. “Guang-Hong. Everything okay?”

“Fine, great.” Definitely not weird because Leo _sniffed_ him. “Yuuri said you might have a sword I could borrow?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I have a few. You’re not planning on stabbing Leo are you? He’s not being a shit again is he?”

Guang-Hong snorted. “I won’t stab him. I just want to get some practice in.”

“Ah! Maybe we could spar sometime, I’m getting rusty.” Viktor set his book aside and headed to the next room, returning shortly with a couple of swords. “Which style do you prefer?”

Guang-Hong stared at them in surprise, reaching instinctively for the _jian_ rather than the _katana_. He’d used both, among others, but the _jian_ ran in his blood. His ancestors crafted them, once upon a time, and no other blade felt so comfortable in his hand. “This is old,” he murmured, drawing it from the scabbard. Oil shone on the sharpened blade and he could tell it had been well cared for. Even the scabbard was in good shape despite a small crack in the mouthpiece. He slid the sword back into place and turned it over to find the crest, staring at the etched gold inlay of his own family's signature.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor asked, stepping closer.

“Nothing, it’s just... This is my family’s crest.” He brushed his thumb over the gold. He'd only seen one other sword with their crest, on the one his father kept in his office.

“Wow, really? You should keep it then.”

He looked up in surprise. “I couldn’t.”

Viktor set the _katana_ aside. “Consider it a gift. Most of the stuff here has been here for ages. I’m sure it’d prefer to be in your care rather than tucked away in a corner.”

Guang-Hong pressed the sword to his chest, bowing low over it and fighting to keep the grin off his face. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I’m sure you will. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He nodded, bowing again before turning to leave. To think that he’d ever find a relic of his family from before the war, and _here_ of all places. He’d see if Emil could fix the scabbard later, but for now he headed toward the forest.

He _hoped_ he found the same place he’d entered the night he’d followed Leo’s music, hesitating and glancing back. Maybe he should let someone know? It was still hours before dusk, and Chris had taught him a few tricks for always finding his way back, so he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. He made his way into the forest and breathed a sigh of relief a few minutes later when he stumbled into the clearing. The sun was still high, though the trees offered enough shade the heat wasn’t unbearable. He still stripped off his shirt to keep from drenching it in sweat, folding it and resting the _jian_ on top as he stretched.

The familiar movements were easy to fall into, his body relaxing as his mind cleared and he focused on his breathing instead. Being distracted while on a job would get you killed faster than anything, and he'd made it a habit to not wield a weapon until he'd found a center of calm. It came far easier than he expected considering the past week, and when he picked up the _jian_ again, the rest of the tension lingering in his shoulders melted away.

He usually needed music to lose himself in the spirit of the dance, but as his body followed the flow of the sword, he could hear the music of the forest around him. The familiar rustle of leaves from the gentle caress of wind, the trill of songbirds and drone of cicadas, the distant, barely there gurgle of a spring.

His breathing steadied as he listened, filling the pauses in the sounds around him, each inhale and exhale followed by a whoosh of the faded blue tassel or the blade singing through the air. Sweat dripped down his face and chest, his hair sticking to his face as he stretched and spun and leapt. His trainer would have skinned him alive knowing he hadn't brought water with him, but the house wasn’t _that_ far away.

It was a relief when his muscles started protesting just before his breathing lost its rhythm; at least he wasn't too out of practice. He slowed his movements, shifting his feet into another spin and freezing as he saw Leo propped against a tree, watching him. _Crap._ How had he not noticed him sooner?! What kind of assassin was he to be taken by surprise? He dropped his arms to his sides, chest heaving as he focused on steadying his breaths again. “Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone?”

“You're one to talk.”

He couldn't help the smirk as he reached for the scabbard and sheathed his sword, aware of Leo’s eyes on him as he pulled his shirt back on.

“Don't stop just because of me.”

He paused and glanced at Leo, brushing back the hair plastered to his face. “I was done anyway.”

Leo straightened away from the tree, and Guang-Hong was sure it was his imagination that he looked disappointed. “You looked like you were dancing.”

“I was.”

Leo's tail twitched, and he found himself wishing he could tell if the ear and tail twitchings meant something like his apparently changing scent. “Don't humans usually dance to music?”

“Usually...” He tilted his head as Leo lingered without continuing, and he was sure the slight shifting of his ears _definitely_ meant something. They were fascinating to watch, though he expected Leo to snap at him for staring any moment.

“Can you dance to the flute?”

Guang-Hong blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “I can dance to anything with a rhythm.”

“Are you saying my flute has no rhythm?”

“Wha-” He clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening as he realized Leo was offering to _play_ for him?! _Why?_ Did this have something to do with Leo sniffing him? “That's not-”

Leo snickered, and the flick of his tail this time was most definitely amused. “Can you dance without the sword?”

“Yes.”

Leo nodded, his ears doing that shifting thing again before he asked, “Would you want me to play for you?”

Guang-Hong smiled. Who _wouldn't_ want a chance to hear Leo play again? “Okay.” He blinked as Leo actually _smiled_ back. It might have been the smallest smile he'd ever seen, but that was a definite upturn of lips.

“Tomorrow after dinner?”

“Okay.” He stayed rooted to the ground as he watched Leo disappear through the trees. It was only when he'd reached the house, after he'd caught his breath completely and his body cooled, that he thought to wonder if he'd just agreed to a date.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments - I may not have gotten around to answering them all, but I read all of them! <3 <3 And thank you to those who helped beta <3

Emil assured him he could fix the scabbard when he dropped it off the next morning, though it would take a couple days. That was fine by him; it wasn't like he was going anywhere. The rest of the morning he spent helping Leo feed the animals. _All_ of them. He hadn't realized how much time went into just caring for livestock until he was sweating from lugging a dozen feed bags and emptying them while fighting off the hungry beasts. And Leo had been up since _before_ breakfast gathering the eggs Yuuri needed for the day.

The temperature climbed steadily enough that by mid-afternoon he was more than content to stay in the shade and sip some water. When Yuri and Otabek joined him, he couldn't help noticing they seemed to get along a lot like Yuuri and Viktor, except far more subdued. Yuri didn't seem quite so restless as he had when Guang-Hong first arrived, and Otabek stuck close to his side. At least until the kits dragged their “new uncle” out to the pond to play with them. Otabek didn't seem to mind too much, glancing back ever so often to wave at them.

By evening, Guang-Hong was starting to regret agreeing to dance for Leo. He’d never danced _for_ anyone before outside of his instructor, and he usually had at least an idea of how the dance should go. Dancing with the sword was easier to improvise, picturing an endless onslaught of enemies or targets to strike at or dodge.

The thought of dancing to unknown music, for an _audience_ , had his thumbnail gnawed to the quick before dinner.

What if he tripped or messed up? What if Leo didn't like it? What should he wear? Something easy to move in, but something that looked nice, too.

In the end, he settled on changing into his black _yukata_ before dinner. He even had the excuse to change since Yuri had taken it upon himself to antagonize the kits and Otabek, until they created tiny rivers in the air to soak him. Guang-Hong happened to be sitting close enough to get hit, too.

He smoothed his hands over the soft fabric as he sat at the table, sipping tea in a vain attempt to calm the knots in his stomach. He tensed as Leo dropped down beside him, expecting to feel sick as his stomach did a strange flip-flop, but then it eased enough he could breathe again.

Leo eyed him a moment before filling his plate. “What are you so twitchy about?”

“I'm not twitchy,” he muttered, picking up a roll. “Stop reading my scent.” He didn't like the thought of the kitsune being able to tell what he was thinking just by the way he _smelled_. Or at least what he was feeling. If he wanted to be twitchy, he wanted it to be a private twitching.

Leo snorted. “So pretend like I can't tell you're upset?”

“Didn't stop you before.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and damn, was he really that petty? He poked at his food as Leo fell silent, biting his tongue against the guilt. It wasn't like he expected to get a real answer for Leo's initial attitude towards him, at least not anytime soon. He was just glad they were past it. Mostly. “Sorry,” he murmured.

He felt Leo eyeing him again and forced a smile, eating what little his stomach could hold between the knots.

He told himself it wouldn't be too bad. His instructor always commented on how easily he lost himself in the music, so long as he got past the nerves.

“Are you not wanting to dance?” Leo asked, pushing his plate aside.

Guang-Hong twitched again before sighing. “I'll dance.” He wanted to hear Leo's flute again and if dancing was the only way he could, it was a small price to pay. Seeing Leo's answering smile made it more than worth it, and most of his nerves faded at the sight.

They walked together towards the forest, their footsteps muffled by dewy grass and a cricket choir. Clouds obscured part of the moonlight, but the clearing seemed to be bathed in it. It was quieter there, hushed, as if it existed in a bubble, and he breathed in the calm as he stopped in the center.

Leo settled on the fallen tree and a few breaths later, his music filled the clearing.

It was the same song as before - slow and somber. He sucked in a breath as those haunting notes gripped him, squeezed tight in his chest. What little was left of his nerves faded away, until all that was left was the music. His body moved on its own, reacting to the hesitant, hopeful melody, losing himself in the yearning. _Became_ it.

What he wanted was just there, soft and alluring, and when he reached for it, it exploded like light in his fingertips. Warmth enveloped him, and he was vaguely aware of a gentle glow in the clearing as he danced, the slow flicker of fireflies, the quiet drone of crickets beneath the flute. None of which mattered. The story of the music held him spellbound, the world fading away until all he could see were two silhouettes, human and kitsune, against a bright sunrise, twirling around each other, spiraling ever closer until they were entwined. Inseparable.

At least until the music shifted. Longing entered the strain, blue streaking across the brilliant pink and red, tiny spots and lines at first, fading and bleeding into purple and black.

The human pulled away, fingers lingering in the kitsune’s grasp, the last to be released. And then the human was gone, only a bright line of red stretching from the kitsune to connect them, until even that grew clouded and blackened.

He reached for it, but it slipped through his fingers like moonlight, dissolving into the night.

The music faded and he was left standing in the clearing, chest heaving from exertion and more. He tipped his head back, warmth spilling from his eyes as he stared at the moon through the leaves and clouds.

Was that Leo’s story, or his fears? Was that why he was so reluctant to even befriend an outsider? He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find the words, his voice sticking in his throat. He heard Leo moving and found the strength to turn to face him, the inner golden glow to his eyes bright in the dark. It matched the fading glow of the clearing. He blinked as looked around at the flowers that littered the area where he’d danced; tiny explosions of muted colors.

Leo reached for him, thumbs swiping against his cheeks. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Save your tears,” he added softly, kissing the top of Guang-Hong’s head before turning and vanishing into the trees.

Guang-Hong sank to the ground, unsure what to make of Leo’s reaction, but his chest still ached with the yearning of the melody, and the beginnings of a headache throbbed behind his eyes. How long had he danced?

He stretched out on his back, arms flung wide as he watched the slow path of the stars and moon across the sky. He should get up, go back to the house and his bed before he fell asleep out here, but his body was heavy. Too heavy. It was safe to just rest here for a bit, right?

When he closed his eyes, the music haunted his dreams, the same story playing out in them. Only this time, he was the human, caught up in the longing for _something,_ chasing after it until he woke to the first hint of sunrise, breathless and devastated, though the dream was already slipping away like mist.

The flowers were gone when he stood up; had he only imagined them? The night before seemed like a dream, his head foggy, his body still heavy and a bit sore as he walked back.

He showered and changed, the sun peeking over the horizon as he headed to help with the animals or breakfast, though a commotion near the stables caught his attention on the way.

A carriage with two horses sat out front, and Yuri and Otabek were talking with a few people he'd never seen before. He watched as a red-haired kitsune squealed and threw her arms around Yuri despite his loud protests and cursing, while a human male and female looked on in amusement with Otabek.

“Guang-Hong!” He turned to find Yuuri waving him over. “Could you help with the meals today? I wasn't expecting them for another week.”

“Sure.”

Yuuri smiled in relief, handing over a large bowl and basket full of eggs. “Thank you.”

He set the bowl in an empty spot and started cracking the eggs into it, glancing at Yuuri when he felt eyes on him. He raised an eyebrow when Yuuri looked away when caught. “What..?”

“Nothing.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “How was your night?”

Guang-Hong flushed, cursing as he dropped half an eggshell into the bowl. “Nothing happened,” he murmured, fishing out the shell and mentally cursing how small the village was. And how everyone seemed to know what everyone else was up to.

“Nothing?”

He felt his face growing warmer and cracked the next egg with more force than necessary, wincing as it exploded in his hand. Why was he getting flustered? Nothing had happened; he'd just danced. “Why would you think something happened?”

“Leo was surly this morning, and you both look like you didn't sleep well. I thought maybe you had an argument.”

“Oh.” He sighed and cleaned his hand off. “We didn't fight. He played his flute and I guess I fell asleep in the forest.”

“Really? I didn't think he played anymore.” He slid a large pan of biscuits back into the oven to finish before reaching for the bacon. “Can you add some vegetables to that before you scramble them?”

“Sure.” He picked up some fresh spinach from another basket and started dicing it.

“Yuuri!” The redheaded kitsune sidled up beside Yuuri, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “How's our favorite chef in all the villages?”

Yuuri blushed and returned the kiss to her cheek. “I never hear you saying that when Viktor’s around,” he said dryly.

“Shhh. He’d kick us out, and we really want to watch the meteors here this year.”

Guang-Hong poured the eggs into the large skillet to cook and glanced over as he eavesdropped.

“I knew there was a reason you arrived early.” Yuuri shook his head, covering the skillet with the bacon as it simmered and motioning to him. “Mila, this is Guang-Hong. Mila and Sara work as our trade liaisons with the kingdoms.”

Mila pulled back from hanging over Yuuri’s shoulder, offering Guang-Hong a smile and her hand. “Hey there. You’re pretty cute for a sacrifice.”

Guang-Hong hesitated a moment before taking her hand and shaking it. “Are most sacrifices ugly?”

“Well...” She glanced at Yuuri with a grin.

“Hey!” Yuuri flicked his hand towel at her.

“I’ll have you know Yuuri is very sexy,” Viktor said, voice bright as he approached and wrapped himself around Yuuri. “And talented and sweet-”

Mila let out an exaggerated groan. “We get it, you’re lovestruck. Don’t hump him in public.”

Guang-Hong bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Yuuri turned bright red, flicking his towel at Viktor when he bit his ear.

“Go round up the herd, you fiend.”

“Yes, dear.” Viktor kissed Yuuri’s cheek before pulling away.

Mila smirked. “Need some help?”

“The table still needs set.”

Guang-Hong turned back to the eggs, taking the chopped onion Yuuri handed over and scraping it in. It was amazing how much more food was needed for just a couple more people. “What’s the meteor shower you came to watch?”

“Only the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see,” Mila said.

He wasn’t sure about that after seeing the way the pond lit up, or the clearing when Leo played.

“It happens every year about the same time,” Yuuri said, pulling the biscuits out and filling a plate with them. “For a couple of hours, the sky is filled with shooting stars. Apparently it’s a magical night.”

Mila scoffed. “It’s a _very_ magical night. Most of the meteors pass close enough we can harness their magic and feed it into the forest. This village is one of the best places to view it.” She finished setting plates and turned, hopping up to sit on the table.

“Why here?” He hissed as the eggs started to overcook on one side, gladly handing it over to Yuuri when he shooed him away. He fished the bacon out onto another plate instead and took it and the biscuits to the table.

“Something about the center of the forest and the Inari shrine.” Mila shrugged, reaching for the pitcher of fresh orange juice and filling a glass to sip on.

Guang-Hong filled his own glass as the others started filing in. He settled at the end of the table, glancing up as Leo dropped down across from him. What doubt had been building up since Leo left him in the forest faded away when Leo looked at him and offered a faint smile. He smiled back, filling his plate and listening to Mila gush over Yuri and the fact he was pregnant. The dark haired human female who must be Sara wandered in with Emil and a human male, sitting near Mila.

“Who's that?” he asked, turning back to Leo.

“Sara’s brother Michele. They call him Mickey though. He's only come through once before.”

He hid a grin behind his glass as he saw the way Emil fussed over Mickey, who seemed oblivious to his advances. “Do you want help with the animals today?”

Leo paused mid bite before answering. “They usually take over with some of the chores while they're here as payment, mostly with the livestock.”

Guang-Hong tilted his head. “Does that mean you're free for the day?”

“I’ll probably end up helping with meals, but... yeah.”

He smiled and looked back to his food, part of him wanting to ask if he could tag along on whatever Leo had planned for the day, but he didn’t want to impose. Apparently that wouldn’t be a problem though.

“Do you want to join me in the forest after we get the horses untacked?”

Guang-Hong glanced up in surprise, watching Leo poking at his food while staring intently at his eggs. “I’d love to.” When Leo glanced up with a hesitant smile, he looked back down at his own eggs as warmth spread through his chest. Was that bad? He might have been interested in Chris a bit, but it wasn’t like they were... together. They hadn’t kissed or anything, and Chris certainly hadn’t _sniffed_ him. He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, or even what it meant.

They finished eating and fell into step beside each other as they headed to the horses and carriage, getting them untethered and out to the pasture with the other. He’d expected it to be awkward after last night, but it felt... nice. Even if they worked in silence, it was comfortable. Pleasant.

Their arms bumped as they passed by Yuri and Otabek, who were watching the kits from the shade of one of the trees.

“Hey! If you’re going into the forest, bring me back some stuff!” Yuri called.

Leo paused with a flick of his ears. “I’m not your caretaker. Have Otabek do it.”

Yuri scoffed, wiggling his toes where his feet were propped in Otabek’s lap. “He’s too busy rubbing my feet.” He snarled when Otabek pinched his toe and kicked at him.

“What kind of stuff?” Guang-Hong asked, ignoring Leo’s sigh. Yuri was pregnant; he remembered his mother having odd cravings while carrying his sister.

“Rhubarb, cassava, and elderberries.”

“...Those are all poisonous.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, flicking his fingers before resting his hands behind his head. “Yuuri knows how to cook them.”

Guang-Hong snorted quietly and nudged Leo. “We can get them. Do they grow near here?”

Leo sighed again, louder this time, though Guang-Hong had a feeling it was more for show than anything. “Yeah, not too far.” He eyed Guang-Hong, lips twitching faintly in something resembling a smile, and he looked good when he did that. He shook his head and picked up a couple of baskets from the dining area on his way to the forest, handing one over. “Should hurry,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “Smells like rain.”

Guang-Hong followed his gaze, but he didn’t see anything different in the clouds or sky. More kitsune nose sensitivity, likely. He couldn’t help the grin as he followed Leo into the forest, still taken by surprise at how quickly the quiet of the village faded away, replaced by birdsong and insects. There was a peacefulness in that, too, in something becoming familiar. He almost couldn't remember how it was in the city, the press of thousands of bodies all around, how the lights obscured the stars in the night sky. And the _smell;_ the hint of garbage and unwashed flesh that lingered in the air, always worse in the heat of summer. The constant noise - the hustle and bustle of carriages, or the clamor of the markets. The library was one of the few places he’d ever found that was quiet, the one place he’d been able to escape to and pretend he was something other than a murderer.

He didn’t notice Leo had stopped until he walked into him. He winced as he stumbled back, catching the basket before it hit the ground. “Sorry. Why’d-” He paused as he glanced up to find Leo staring at him, his ears twitching. “What?”

“What are you thinking about?”

Guang-Hong huffed and wrapped his arms around his basket, hugging it against his chest. “Stop... scenting me like a damn hound.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, his lip pulling back to bare a hint of teeth. “I’m not a dog.”

“Fox then,” he said, waiting until Leo sighed and turned back to walking to stick his tongue out at him. “I was thinking of home,” he added, tilting his head as Leo grunted, his tail twitching in a way that reminded him of an agitated cat. Why was Leo upset at him this time?

Leo slowed as he reached a small brook, stepping over it and pointing to a cluster of giant leaves. “There’s the rhubarb. Be sure not to take all the stalks from the same plant,” he said, pulling a dagger free from his thigh strap and handing it over. “The leaves are poisonous, so cut them off.”

Guang-Hong nodded, taking the dagger and dropping down near the plants. He eyed Leo a moment as he moved a several feet away and started picking berries from a bush. Leo looked... tense? The silence was stifling. He sighed softly and set to work cutting off red stalks, the images from Leo’s music coming back to him as he worked; the human and kitsune coming together before the human left. But why would they leave? Were they royalty and had other obligations? If that were so, they still would have come back on occasion, right?

His hands stilled as he remembered the longing he’d felt while dancing and realized it hadn’t been Leo’s longing, not entirely. It’d been the human’s, their longing for something far away from here. Longing for... home? Oh. He sighed and glanced at Leo again. “I wasn’t thinking about how much I missed it,” he said quietly. How could he miss it when it had never really felt like home to begin with? Or at least had stopped feeling like home ages ago. He’d spent the past few years dreaming of when he’d get the chance to finally walk away. After his sister was married, he’d thought maybe his chance would come sooner rather than later.

“I was just thinking about how different it is here from the city. It’s... crowded and a little dirty, and it’s never quiet. And you can’t see the stars at night, not like here.” He smiled at Leo when he glanced back at him with a curious twitch of his tail. “It’s nice here. Hot, but nice.” He turned back to harvesting the rhubarb, slicing off the large leaves and tossing the stalks into the basket. “At least when people aren’t being an ass.” He yelped as a handful of berries rained down on him, brushing them out of his hair with a laugh and throwing them back. “Ass.”  
  
Leo snorted and turned back to the bushes. “You don’t want to go back home then?” he asked after a long moment.

“Not really, no.” Guang-Hong knew he’d have to go home sometime, if only to reassure his family he was still alive. And make sure his sister was doing well. But staying here meant no more fights with his father, no more jobs. No more blood on his hands. Why would he want to leave when there was nothing but misery back home?

No. Not home. Here... this village, with the kitsune... _This_ was home.

“Good.”

He blinked as that simple word made his chest tight and full and sent tingles down his spine. He smiled as he focused on filling the basket, finally sitting back with a groan when his knees started to protest. He tipped his head back as he felt something land in his hair, watching as the clouds coalesced above them. It started soft, a gentle patter of raindrops in the canopy, and he closed his eyes as he listened, the sound so different from rain on rooftops.

“We’re going to get soaked.”

“We’ll dry.” Guang-Hong grinned as he got to his feet, hefting up his basket and moving to help Leo finish digging up strange roots. “Is he really going to eat these?”

“They’re not that bad really.” Leo tossed the last root in the basket and wiped his hands off on the grass. “Come on.” He picked up the basket, his other hand reaching for Guang-Hong’s as if by reflex.

Guang-Hong didn’t have time to react, snatching his own basket as Leo tugged him to his feet and headed back at a brisk pace. He stared at the fingers wrapped around his wrist, heart thundering behind his ribs at the simple contact. It didn’t mean anything. Right? Why did he even think it would? Why would he... _want_ it to? He didn’t... Did he?

The rain fell harder and faster, until he could barely see Leo in front of him, let alone whatever path they were following. His hair was plastered to his face, rivulets running into his eyes and down his arms. Leo hadn’t been kidding about getting soaked, and he was grateful for the solid band of warmth around his wrist where Leo held onto him.

The press of shadows cleared away from around them and then they were dashing across open space, and somehow it felt like the rain soaked into his skin even more. The moment they stepped under the sheltering roof of the dining area it was like stepping into another world, the heat of the fires warming the air and their damp skin, the only sound that of the downpour around them.

“Here,” Leo murmured, releasing Guang-Hong’s wrist and reaching for the basket.

Guang-Hong let go, watching Leo set them aside, eyes tracking to his sodden ears and the way his hair stuck to his chin and neck. He reached out without thinking, brushing Leo’s hair out of his eyes with his fingertips. His breath caught in his throat as Leo’s startled eyes met his, a flush creeping into his cheeks a moment before he pulled back.

Leo looked away with a cough, running his fingers through his hair. “The storm should ease up soon. Do you want me to lead you back to your house?”

He smiled and brushed back his own hair, tucking it behind his ears. “Yeah, I should probably find some dry clothes...”

Leo picked up the basket with rhubarb, dumping it out on top of the roots and berries before flipping it and dropping it on Guang-Hong’s head with a faint smirk. “Let’s go.”

The dash across the village was much quicker than their trek through the forest, almost disappointingly so. He sighed with regret when Leo released his wrist again, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of the house. No. His home. He turned with a grin, taking the basket off his head and putting it on Leo’s. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

His grin widened, his heart fluttering again as he watched Leo run back towards the strange hill of his own home. _Anytime_ was even better than a peach.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your butts.

Nights became a ritual of Leo walking him to his house at the end of the day, though ever since the rainstorm, he had the distinct impression that Leo was making a concerted effort to keep at least half a foot of space between them at all times. It was... frustrating. He hadn’t realized until after Leo left him during the storm, trekking through the rain back home, how much he was... starved for contact. Just the memory of Leo’s fingers on his wrist was enough to bring a smile to his lips and his fingers to his own wrist, tracing the ghost of warmth that lingered. He wanted to touch Leo, even something as simple as leaning against each other like Yuri and Otabek.

It even started affecting his sleep. He didn’t remember the details of his dreams at night, but the yearning, and the sense of giving chase, stayed with him even after he woke, the haunting refrain of a flute lingering in the air. He woke to damp pillows, his arm outstretched towards the window. What exactly was he hoping for?

With a sigh, he dressed for the day and headed to breakfast, the sky just beginning to lighten with sunrise. There was no sign of Yuuri so he headed for the back of the village to see if Leo was still gathering eggs. He heard voices coming from inside the chicken coop, tilting his head as one sounded like Chris.

“Dammit Leo! I don’t care if-”

He stopped outside the coop, resting a hand against the weather-cracked and splintered wood. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the assassin-trained part of him knew any and all information was vital.

“-not a match for that kind of bond and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leo said.

“Like hell you don’t.” There was the sound of movement and Guang-Hong peeked inside to see Chris with his hand fisted in Leo’s yukata.

“Get off me.” Leo bared his teeth in a snarl, gripping Chris’ wrist and shoving him back.

Chris growled, his ears flat against his head. “So you’re going to push him away?”

“Mind your own business.” Leo sneered, straightening his clothes.

Chris sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t get you. It’s been six years, Laurel's not coming bac-”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Leo surged forward, gripping Chris’ yukata and shoving him back against the wall. “Don't you dare talk about her.”

“Okay...” Chris lifted his hand, resting his fingers on Leo's arm. “What about him?”

“...He deserves better.”

“Than what? To be cared for? How long are you going to play stupid?”

Leo snarled again, shoving away and turning for the door. He stopped as his eyes met Guang-Hong’s.

Shit. Guang-Hong swallowed and stepped back, the yearning that still lingered from his dreams growing sharper. Painful. His eyes stung, pressure building behind them, in his head. That's why Leo had been keeping his distance? Because of Laurel? Was that the human he'd seen while dancing, the human in Leo's music? Leo... didn't want him, he wanted Laurel back. It made sense.

He stumbled back as Leo brushed past him, slumping into the side of the chicken coop as he watched Leo walk away. He pressed his fingers over his lips as he tried to get a steady breath. He wasn't prepared for arms to wrap around him, pulling him into a warm chest as fingers rested against his hair. "Chris," he whispered, clutching the soft yukata as a sob tore from his throat.

“It’s okay.” Chris’ voice was a soft rumble, and Guang-Hong couldn’t help but bury himself in the warmth of him, breathing in the scent of forest and horse.

He closed his eyes, giving in to the need to stay close, to soak up the embrace, even if it didn't help the growing ache in his chest. "You're back from patrol?" he asked, ignoring how his voice wavered.

"Mmm, couldn't miss the meteors."

"Oh." He should say something else, but what? If Chris' nose was as good as Leo's he could probably smell his distress. What point was there in trying to pretend it wasn't there, like a weight dragging him down? Why had he even tried to get close to Leo? Leo had been honest from the start; hadn't wanted anything to do with him. "Glad you're back."

Chris hummed, rubbing a hand against his back. "Me too."

He pulled back in surprise as Chris shifted before picking him up. “Chris-”

“Trust me.”

Guang-Hong blinked up at Chris before sighing, relaxing into his hold with a nod. The sun rose above the horizon as Chris carried him into the forest, the early morning light lending an ethereal touch to the trees. In that lighting, he could almost see the magic around them; gentle golden breaths streaked with the ruddy lifeblood of the forest itself. He lost track of how far Chris carried him; only knew that when they finally stopped, it was in front of a large hammock.

He expected Chris to set him down, but he only walked up to it and turned, the hammock swinging beneath them as he sat and quickly pulled his legs up. The initial jolt and feeling of falling faded and he relaxed again, shifting to stretch out beside Chris without releasing his hold. Neither of them spoke, and he found himself grateful for the silence.

He didn’t want to be told it was just Leo being Leo. Or that he was really a nice person, if he’d give him a chance. He knew Leo was kind. The past few days were enough to prove that - how much Leo cared for everyone here, even Yuri; how much everyone cared for him in return. Maybe he’d wanted too much, enough that Leo could... smell it on him? He squeezed his eyes shut at that mortifying thought. He’d only wanted to be friends, but he couldn’t deny the way he was drawn to Leo. He’d thought maybe he could ignore it, but since the storm he couldn’t get the way Leo looked out of his head: Soaked and highlighted by the light of the fires, the startled, almost vulnerable look in his eyes when Guang-Hong touched him.

Chris sighed, his fingers flexing in Guang-Hong’s hair. “Is there anything I can do?”

Guang-Hong couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped, wincing at how bitter it sounded. “Reverse time?”

“Wish I could.”

Guang-Hong tilted his head, burying his face in Chris’ chest. He just wanted to sleep and pretend this morning had never happened. That he’d gone in search of Yuuri instead of Leo. “Can I just sleep until the meteor shower?”

Chris hummed softly. “Actually I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”

He lifted his head to eye Chris, anger threading into his despair. “Why _not_?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, studying him long enough Guang-Hong flushed and looked away. “I think we should go talk to Phichit.”

Guang-Hong huffed and pulled back, struggling to climb out of the hammock without falling. “I’d rather just go back home.”

“Tough.” Chris climbed out after him with far more grace than should have been possible. He reached for Guang-Hong’s wrist, leading him back towards the village.

He stared at the fingers on his wrist, unable to keep from comparing them to Leo’s - larger, stronger, not nearly as warm, but that might have been due to the lack of rainfall. They weren’t Leo’s. Some part of him realized Leo would probably never touch him again, and that just made him feel worse. He stumbled after Chris, tripping twice before Chris picked him up to carry him again, and that didn’t make anything any better either.

Why did he have to make such a mess of everything?

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Chris snapped.

He looked up in surprise, lips thinning in a grimace as he realized _all_ the kitsune could likely scent him as well as Leo. He was an open book to them and they’d just pretended they couldn’t tell how he was feeling the whole time? He closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind blank. He steadied his breathing, reaching for the calm he’d been trained to call upon, and then it was easy, numbness creeping in and dulling the ache of longing. He watched the trees and bushes until they faded away, replaced by the shed and barn, open space, hedges, and then they were inside Phichit’s tower.

Strange incense smoked in a metal censer hanging near the door, the scent burning his nose.

“Phichit!” Chris carried him into a large living room before finally setting him on his feet.

Guang-Hong sank down into a chair, eyes sweeping over the room, noting the exits, where it’d be easy to get cornered, potential weapons. He stopped himself as he realized what he was doing, hunching forward and bracing his elbows on his legs, pressing his fists to his forehead. One extreme to the other, but at least this was familiar. Something he could control.

“Chris? Something wrong?” Phichit called from the stairs as he headed down.

He didn’t miss the soft tread of footsteps on wood, quieter than he'd expect. He lifted his head, watching Phichit pull a shirt on. His eyes strayed to Seung-gil behind him, suspicions raised even further. He hadn't heard _him_ at all.

Phichit looked to Guang-Hong in surprise, eyeing Chris as he moved closer. “Ji?” He dropped to his knees in front of him. “What happened?”

“Leo,” he whispered, not even sure what he should say to explain, but the way Phichit winced was enough to let him know he didn't have to.

“Seung-gil, can you make some tea?” Phichit sighed, standing and pulling another chair close to sit. “Is it a scent bond?” he asked, looking at Chris.

“No, it's too strong for that.”

Phichit grimaced, reaching out for Guang-Hong’s hand.

He pulled away before Phichit could get hold of him, sick of being touched. Funny how he'd craved even less just that morning. “I'm fine.”

“Okay.” Phichit smiled though it seemed forced, stiff around the edges.

Silence fell heavy around them, until he could hear the faint ticking of a clock in another room. “Why did you bring me here?” He narrowed his eyes when Phichit and Chris looked at each other, curling his fingers into tight fists. “ _Why_?”

Phichit sighed, slumping back in his chair. “Because what you're feeling right now isn't... You're being affected by a type of magic.”

Of course he was. Even if that made sense, it didn't ease the hollow sensation any. “What kind of magic?”

“It’s a kind of bonding magic. It forms when a kitsune is highly compatible with someone.”

“Compatible.” The only thing Leo was compatible with was a rock, and only if it smashed into the back of his head.

Phichit smirked faintly, as if he knew where his thoughts had gone. He looked up as Seung-gil returned with a cup of tea. “Here, drink this.”

He eyed the cup and resisted the impulse to slap it to the floor, hating the anger building inside him. “I don't want your fucking tea.” He surprised himself with how calm his voice sounded, when all he wanted to do was scream.

“Ji, please.”

Guang-Hong glared at Phichit a moment before taking the cup, wrapping his fingers around the warmth. “What's in it?”

“Herbs. It may help dull the effects.”

He stared at the green liquid, at the warped reflection shifting in it. If drinking it meant he might not feel this way... He took a breath and lifted it to his lips. It smelled pungent. He grimaced as bitter liquid spilled over his tongue, though it left a sweet aftertaste. He choked it down and swiped his hand over his mouth, setting the empty cup on the table. “Did he have a bond with Laurel, too?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Phichit glanced to Chris. “They started the mating bonds, didn’t they?”

Chris sighed, stretching his legs out where he’d settled on the couch beside Seung-gil. “Yeah, but they never completed them as far as I know.” He propped his chin on his fist as he eyed Guang-Hong. “They didn’t have what you have.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow. “What do I have? He hates me.”

Phichit sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Leo is being an idiot. I thought you were getting along?”

“So did I...” He sighed and slumped back in his chair, tipping his head back. Purple orbs floated near the ceiling, a black light pulsing deep in their centers. They drifted on unseen currents and he found himself captivated by them as his body grew heavy. “You drugged me.”

“You’ll thank me when you wake up.”

Guang-Hong grunted as he closed his eyes, unwilling to fight the pull into unconsciousness.

 _“Are you sure that was a good idea?”_  
_  
“It’s fine. Unless there’s something about the bond you’re not telling me.”_

The last thing he heard was Chris’ sigh.

His dreams were convoluted, confusing. Was he a human, or a kitsune? Did he have magic? Vines sprouted from empty air around him, coiling around his body, around his throat. Vibrant green turned to red, fading to black and turning to ash while golden eyes watched from the darkness.

When he woke, he was on the couch, a blanket covering him and a glass of water on the table in front of him. He sat up with a groan, reaching for the water and draining it, grimacing at how parched he was. His head throbbed on the verge of a headache, but he tried to ignore it.

“How are you feeling?” Seung-gil asked, stepping into the room. He stopped beside him, handing over a plate with a sandwich.

Guang-Hong took it, his stomach growling and churning at once, though the sandwich eased both as well as his pending headache. “Like I died,” he finally answered, rubbing at his face. “How long?”

“You missed lunch. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He squinted at Seung-gil, absently rubbing at his chest and blinking when he realized what he was doing. “Where’s Chris?” He should apologize for... everything?

Seung-gil picked up the plate and glass. “Helping Yuuri.”

Guang-Hong nodded. “Thanks.” He stood and swayed, getting his balance after only a moment before heading outside, blinking in the brilliant light of the sunset. He tipped his head back, breathing deep as wisps of clouds drifted across the darkening sky. The meteor shower would be tonight. That was enough to get his spirits up, and he didn’t even have to try too hard to smile when he found Chris setting the table.

Chris raised an eyebrow when he spotted him, ears twitching in that curious gesture before smiling back. “Hey. You look better.”

“I feel... fine.” It was even true. Whatever Phichit had given him really had worked. He blinked as Chris pulled him into a hug and mussed his hair, squeaking against Chris’ chest before leaning into him. “I’m okay.”

“Good.”  
  
He smiled faintly, lingering there a moment before poking Chris in the side and pulling away. “What else needs done?”

“Nothing, just sit and eat.”

Guang-Hong huffed and filled a glass of tea, grinning as Chris sat next to him. “So what should I expect with the meteors?”

Chris smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m not ruining the surprise.”

“Dammit,” he grumbled, smiling faintly as Chris laughed and elbowing him In response. “Yuuri said it’s a bunch of shooting stars.”

Chris snorted, leaning closer as the others settled in for dinner. “It’s so much more than that. You’re sensitive, so you might be able to see how much more. To humans, it might just be a bunch of shooting stars.”

“I look forward to it.” He glanced up as he spotted Leo, somehow not surprised when Leo didn’t look at him and sat at the other end of the table. It was probably for the best. “So are you back from patrol or are you leaving again after the meteors?”

“I’m back. Unless you want to be rid of me again?” Chris asked, trying to pout, but it just looked ridiculous.

Guang-Hong propped his chin on his palm and pretended to think about it.

“Ouch.” Chris pressed a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”

He smirked and leaned in closer before he could think about what he was doing, pressing a kiss to Chris’ cheek. “You’ll live.” Warmth crept into his face as he realized he’d just _kissed_ Chris, pulling back and reaching to fill his plate. Oh crap. He shouldn’t have done that. Right? But... why not? He cleared his throat as he dug into the food, more hungry than he thought he’d be after eating the sandwich, but apparently he was making up for lost meals.

He listened to the others talking, though half his attention was on the heat all along his side where Chris sat. His breath stuck in his throat as Chris bumped against him, smiling faintly as he shifted to bump into him in return, leaning into him rather than pulling away. He didn’t pull away after they’d finished either, or when Chris reached for his hand and tugged him out near the pond where blankets were spread out on the grass.

Chris stopped beside one and glanced at the sky. “They’re going to start soon. You can watch from here.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”  
  
“I’ll be back after we harness what we can. You’ll be too focused on the sky to even know I’m gone,” Chris said with a wink. He flicked Guang-Hong with his tail before releasing his hand and moving to where the other kitsune were gathering.

He dropped down on the blanket and leaned back on his elbows, glancing at Yuuri when he settled on the blanket next to him. “You look tired.”

Yuuri yawned, stretching his arms out with a groan. “I’m always tired.” He laughed softly and crossed his arms behind his head. “Comes with having twins. Or kits in general.”

Guang-Hong smirked. “I'll keep that in mind.” He turned his attention to the sky as he saw a flash of silver streak overhead. There were no clouds and the moon hung low on the horizon, just peeking over the treetops, giving an unobstructed view of the sky. He thought maybe he'd imagined it when the sky remained still, but then another shot across above him.

A few minutes later, there were dozens of them. Hundreds. Filling the sky with brilliant silver and gold-touched shooting stars.

Some fell to the earth, burning hot before slowing and flitting down like leaves caught on the wind. When he followed their path, they hovered above the circle of kitsune, the kits dancing around them with sparklers. The fallen stars exploded into tiny balls of light, bathing the village in a soft golden hue. It wrapped around them, seeped into them and through them, into the ground.

It spread further, until the grass beneath him shone, trickling into the trees and creeping up into their leaves and branches. Fireflies swarmed between the trees as the entire village seemed to be set on fire, and he felt the force of the magic as it swept over him. His entire body tingled with warm light, pulsing through his veins and lingering in his fingertips.

He fell back onto the blanket with a grin, content to watch the meteors as the kitsune continued channeling the magic. The moon crept higher and the stars shifted along their path as he watched, curling his fingers into the blankets when it felt like he could fall into the depth of the sky if he let go. When the last of the meteors had fallen, he sighed, unwilling to get up. He glanced over to Yuuri as Viktor made his way over and snorted quietly at finding him asleep.

Viktor’s body still glowed with traces of magic as he crouched near Yuuri, running fingers through his hair. “Wake up, love.”

Yuuri grumbled, shifting to wrap himself around Viktor. “‘m up...”

Viktor laughed as he scooped Yuuri up, nuzzling into his hair.

“You put the kits to bed?” Yuuri asked around a yawn.

“Of course.”

Guang-Hong smiled and sat up, raising an eyebrow as Viktor carried Yuuri towards the edge of the forest. Otabek was carrying Yuri to another part, and Mila came over to where Sara was on another blanket, pulling her to her feet with a grin. When he saw Emil drop down next to Mickey and kiss him, he realized what the _rest_ of the ritual must be and felt himself turning red.

He looked up as Chris approached and swallowed, staring at the offered hand before taking it.

“It's about to get a bit loud out here... Do you want me to walk you home?”

Guang-Hong shivered, licking his lips before nodding when his voice failed him. He glanced down as Chris kept hold of his hand, falling into step beside him. “It's... always like this?” he asked softly.

“Yeah... the magic we harness lingers in us for days. Makes everything... more intense,” Chris said with a soft laugh.

That sounded intriguing, even if it didn't help the heat in his face. He pushed open the door to his house when they reached it, one hand lingering on the doorknob as he held on to Chris’ hand. “Do... Would you like to come in?”

Chris’ ears twitched in surprise. “Sure.” He smiled, squeezing Guang-Hong’s fingers and following.

He tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, thankful for the dark shadows inside as he moved to sit on the couch, unable to bring himself to invite Chris to the bedroom. Thankfully Chris didn't seem to mind, sinking down beside him and releasing his hand to rest his arm around Guang-Hong’s shoulders instead.

He leaned into Chris’ side, head dropping onto his shoulder with a sigh. When fingers stroked through his hair, he found himself relaxing even further. “Feels nice,” he murmured, smiling as Chris chuckled and massaged at his scalp. He pressed closer, shivering as he felt Chris’ breaths in his hair.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?”

 _Oh gods_. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Why shouldn't he say yes? He'd wanted to see where it might go, and... if Leo was going to keep his head up his ass... “I wouldn't mind,” he whispered, hesitating before lifting his head.

Chris slid his fingers from Guang-Hong’s hair to the back of his neck, thumb stroking against his jaw. He pressed his lips to Guang-Hong’s hair before trailing light kisses down his forehead, the bridge and tip of his nose, shifting to his cheek before ghosting over his lips.

Guang-Hong closed his eyes, relishing the sensations. He curled his fingers into the front of Chris’ _yukata,_ shifting closer until he was almost in his lap. He’d never kissed someone before; that one time when he was seven and a girl from the Western Kingdom kissed him during lunch didn’t count. Somehow he’d always expected it to be... exciting. Magical in a way, like an echo of the tingles the magic from the meteors had brought.

It wasn’t bad. It was nice even; warm lips and the faint scratch of Chris’ scruff. But it wasn’t... _right?_

He pulled back, tilting his head as he lifted his hand to press his fingertips against Chris’ cheek.

Chris bumped his nose against Guang-Hong’s. “Nothing, huh?”

Guang-Hong groaned softly and propped his forehead against Chris’. “It's... not that.”

Chris’ lips twitched in a faint smile. “It’s okay. Wasn’t sure that would work anyway. Maybe some other time.”

Guang-Hong snorted and settled beside Chris again. “Like after I’m not under Leo’s spell anymore?” he grumbled.

“Something like that.” Chris rubbed at his back, stroking his hair again. “Should I go?”

He sighed, pressing his face into Chris’ shoulder. “I should... probably get some rest?” He wasn’t that tired though, and part of him wanted to just stay where he was and let Chris stroke his hair a while.

“I could stay here until you fall asleep.”

Guang-Hong laughed and pulled away. “I’d drool on you.”

Chris smirked. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He smacked Chris’ shoulder, wrinkling his nose with a roll of his eyes. “Disgusting.”

Chris chuckled and got to his feet, kissing the top of Guang-Hong’s head. “Goodnight, then.”

Guang-Hong stood and followed him to the door. “Night,” he said, leaning against the jamb and watching Chris flick his tail as he headed home. He straightened and started to head back inside when he spotted Leo near the pond, picking up the blankets. He lifted his hand when Leo glanced his way, sighing when he only turned back to his task.

He closed the door, rubbing at his chest as he headed to bed, hoping he’d have a dreamless sleep for once. Or at least be able to remember them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on your right, you'll see some angst, and on your left, oops more angst.
> 
> And up ahead is the 'I didn't write 25k words of buildup to not have a good angstfest' warning sign. 
> 
> (There's a happy ending after it all, I promise.)


	8. Chapter 8

The forest lie hushed around him, the hoot of an owl fading quiet into the distance, fog thick and low on the ground, shifting and puffing around his ankles like bated breath. A cool breeze rustled the leaves and the scent of rain hung heavy in the air. Everything seemed soft, muted. Even the brush of foliage against his sides as he walked made hardly a whisper.

He passed the giant tree with Inari’s shrine, around the spring running deep into the earth, moving further into the forest than he’d ever gone alone, but he wasn’t worried. He knew exactly where he was going. A natural hot spring lay tucked into the depths of the forest, built up into an _onsen_ after Yuuri mentioned his family's to Viktor _._

The stones were dark and smooth, shaped with magic and worn with use. The kiss of cool night on hot water filled the air with steam, the only evidence of their twilight tryst.

He hesitated as he saw Leo already soaking before shrugging out of his robe, shivering in the caress of chilled air. He slipped into the water, breathing in the earthy, mineral scent as he sank down to his shoulders. He spared a glance to Leo, found the kitsune watching him through half-lidded eyes, and swallowed. The indescribable pull to just be near him, to touch him, was even stronger this close, and he bit his lip against a whine. His eyes widened when Leo lifted a hand out of the water, holding it out to him as if _inviting_ him, beckoning him closer.

Guang-Hong was powerless to resist.

He drifted closer to Leo, taking the proffered hand.

Leo tugged him even closer, guiding his leg until he was straddling Leo's thighs. And then their fingers were stroking each other's faces, noses bumping, breaths mingling.

His fingers inched up into Leo's hair, sliding back towards an ear and caressing the soft fur. He grinned as Leo made a strange rumbling sound that almost sounded like a purr. It was a sound he could stand to hear more of. “Leo,” he murmured, pressing closer, gasping as Leo’s hand slid down his back, tracing his spine. He arched into the touch with a moan, fingers curling tighter in Leo’s hair.

Leo tilted his head, pressing his nose into Guang-Hong’s neck and breathing deep before flicking his tongue out. His teeth followed, barely scraping against flesh before his mouth moved down to Guang-Hong’s chest.

Guang-Hong shivered, lifting up and pressing his face into Leo’s hair. He bit his lip against the moans, wrapping his arms tight around Leo before tugging his head back. Leo’s eyes were _gorgeous_  in the moonlight, dark and half-lidded, a warm flush suffusing his cheeks. He wanted to kiss him so bad he could practically _taste_ Leo’s lips, slowly leaning down, closing his eyes as their lips met.

It was _incredible._

Leo’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, crushing their mouths together. He gasped at the feel of Leo’s tongue sliding past his lips, something like a squeak escaping him as his eyes flew open.

Instead of Leo’s eyes, he found himself staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, his heart racing and his body feverish hot. A soft whine escaped him as he realised it’d all been just a dream. A _dream._ It’d felt _real._ He could still feel the heat of the water, the cool night air on his back. He brushed his fingers against his lips, but it was a poor imitation for Leo’s lips. With a soft sob, he curled onto his side, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Why was this happening? Leo didn’t want him; why was he _dreaming_ about him? Was this another effect of the stupid bond?

There was the sound of his window opening and he sat up in surprise, hand slipping under his pillow for his knife. His eyes widened as he found _Leo_ at his window. Glaring at him. “Leo-”

“Stay the hell out of my dreams,” Leo snarled, ears flat against his head.

Guang-Hong stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Leo bared his teeth, eyes glowing gold as he gripped the windowsill. “Your damn dreams of being with me. Get over it. I don't need a _mate._ And I certainly don't need-” He cut himself off, ears twitching as a growl rumbled from the back of his throat. He shoved away from the window and walked away, leaving Guang-Hong to sit in stunned silence.

Even if Leo stopped before he said it, Guang-Hong knew how that sentence ended. Leo didn't need _him._ That was... abundantly clear, moreso even than before. That was... It was fine. He was better off without Leo anyway. So why did it feel like he'd just been kicked in the stomach?

He slowly lowered himself back down to the pillows, curling on his side and staring at the spot Leo had been standing. He pressed his hand into his chest, forcing his breaths in and out in measured paces. He was fine. He'd always be fine, because that's what he'd been trained to be. This was nothing compared to a stab wound or the slick weight of blood on his hands.

He tried to go back to sleep, but Leo's words kept echoing through his mind. He couldn't control his dreams; he couldn't risk sleeping in case it angered Leo more, even if he wanted to sleep and never wake again.

He watched the remainder of the night pass, listened to the crickets and the occasional owl. When the sky finally began to lighten, he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the moon would retake its place. He didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to see anyone. He’d be content to whither away right then and there. When he opened his eyes again, the sun had risen above the horizon.

He sighed and dragged himself out of bed. He couldn't lie there all day. The others would worry. He needed to help with chores. Maybe that would help distract him from the black cloud of despair dragging him down.

The world was blurry as he walked, but since he’d hardly slept, he doubted that would get better anytime soon. The others were already gathered by the time he made it to the table. He offered a faint smile as he sat, scooping a small bit of eggs on his plate and poking at them. He wasn’t hungry though he knew he needed to choke something down. He wasn’t sure he could though, when the thought alone of eating made him feel like he’d be sick.

It wasn’t until the weight of silence at the table finally sank in that he glanced up to find everyone staring at him. “What?” he asked, his voice hoarse and croaking.

Chris cursed, pushing to his feet and striding closer. He pulled Guang-Hong into his arms, squeezing tight enough to make it difficult to breathe. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Chris?” He blinked up at the kitsune, rubbing at his eye when they only got blurrier, blinking as his finger came away wet. Tears? He was... crying? Is that why his chest felt like it was caught in a vice? “Why... sorry?” he whispered, choking on a sob and trying to push away from Chris, despite wanting to just curl into his chest and stay there.

“What happened to him?” Phichit asked, moving closer and resting a hand on Guang-Hong’s shoulder, tugging him back to get a look at him.

Guang-Hong whimpered and rubbed at his eyes, flinching back as a wet towel was pressed against his face. He glanced down to see vibrant red staining the white cloth, frowning in confusion and wiping at his nose. His hand came away streaked with blood. He stared at it as the clatter of everyone moving into action around him faded to a dull roar. “I’m dying,” he heard himself say, closing his eyes as the world lurched around him as someone picked him up. Why was he being carried so much lately?

“How did the bond get this deep?”

“Where the hell is Leo?”

“He left for patrol this morning.”

_“What is wrong with him!?”_

“Rejection.”

_“Fuck.”_

He pressed his face into Chris’ chest, clutching the towel to his face and sighing in relief when the yelling faded. For the second time in as many days, he found himself in Phichit’s tower, collapsing into the couch when Chris put him down. Tears and blood still streamed from his eyes and nose and he couldn’t seem to stop either.

This was all... a mistake. He’d known it the moment he stepped out of the carriage and made his way to the altar. He should have asked to go home from the beginning. As much as he hated what his father would make him, it was better than _this._ He looked up as Phichit and Viktor came in behind Chris. “Take me home,” he whispered.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” said Phichit, sitting on the edge of the table and tugging the towel away with a grimace. “Shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

“No... _my_ home.” He swallowed and struggled to sit up, slumping against the arm of the couch as he looked between them. “I want to go home.”

Viktor leaned against the back of the couch. “Are you sure?”

“We can’t just let him leave,” Chris growled, ears twitching as he paced the room.

Phichit sighed, sharing a look with Viktor. “Will erasing his memories work?”

“No. Not completely.” Viktor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It won’t break the bond. Guang-Hong, I’m sorry, but the only one who can break the bond cleanly is Leo. You should wait here while we find him.”

He smiled, cheeks cracking beneath the dried tears. He already knew Leo wouldn’t be found so easily, and he sure as hell wouldn’t break the bond cleanly. His only choice was to get away from here before Leo made it worse. Or he made it worse. Maybe he’d brought this on himself. Maybe this was his punishment for the lives he’d taken. “Your tea helped,” he murmured.

Phichit rubbed at his face. “Ji, please-”

 _“I want to go home!”_ He choked on a sob, curling into himself as the pain of loss stabbed through his chest. Leo wasn’t his. Leo would _never_ be his. He hated himself that he even _wanted_ Leo. That he’d been so weak he fell under his spell before he even realized it. “Please.”

“Okay,” Phichit murmured, his voice strained. “Okay.”

Viktor moved to stand near his head. “I’m sorry. This will hurt, but if you’re sure-”

“I am.” Anything to stop the pain. He closed his eyes as Viktor’s fingers pressed against his temples.

“Then you won’t remember your time here. It won’t get rid of the bond, or the effects of it, but it will ease the pain a bit.”

Even as unfocused as he was, he knew there was more left unsaid, but it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. He sucked in a breath past the sobs tearing out of his throat and nodded.

Nothing could have prepared him for the searing hot pain that exploded behind his eyes. He felt his mouth open, but no screams came out, only more sobs. Images flashed through his mind - of Chris and Leo and Yuuri and the brief time he’d spent with the others. And then they were gone, until even their names weren't even a memory, and he was sinking into a black void where _magic_ and _bonds_ were just words in his books.

* * *

Stale air and dusty sunlight greeted him when he opened his eyes. He squinted at his ceiling as vertigo swept over him, groaning and rolling to his side to hold his head and stomach until it passed. He sat up with a grimace, scratching at his chest as he moved to open the window, letting in fresh air. He slammed it shut when all he smelled was filth.

He stood there as he stared out at the city, or what he could see of it through the crowded buildings and narrow streets. The sun was just creeping up from the horizon, reddish light glinting off windows, casting long shadows in the alleys. It felt strange, seeing it, the air fouler than it should be. Why did it feel like he shouldn’t be here? He rubbed at his head in a vain attempt to stave off the building headache.

He turned for the door, pausing as he noticed his half-empty bookcase in the corner, the open drawers of his dresser, the open closet with clothes missing. His trunks were gone, too. He hurried down the stairs to find his mother in the kitchen.

She turned when he entered and he could see the worry lines around her eyes, though she only smiled and picked up a cup, filling it and handing it to him. “You were asleep so long... Are you hungry?”

Guang-Hong took the cup, sinking into a chair as he stared at the dark liquid. “Not really,” he murmured, taking a sip. It was bitter and sweet, but somehow he knew it would help. “Where are my books? And my trunks.” He glanced up at the clatter of dishes, watching as she picked up the broken pieces of a plate.

“They should arrive soon.” She tossed the pieces into the trash, wiping her hands off before going back to fixing a sandwich, which she set in front of him.

“Arrive from where?”

“They said you might not remember. You hit your head while you were... gone.” She turned back to cleaning.

“Gone where?”

She waved a hand, but he knew her well enough to recognize when she was refusing to speak.

A mission then? He'd... been on a mission for his father, and he'd hit his head. Had he killed someone else? Was that why he felt an ache of loss despite not being able to remember?

With a sigh, he took a bite of the sandwich, choking down what tasted like stale bread and gamey meat. He'd always enjoyed his mother's cooking before... Before what? Maybe he was getting sick. Or maybe he was being crushed beneath the ghosts of those he'd killed.

“Your father wishes to see you when you're finished.”

His stomach churned and he set down the last bit of the sandwich, draining the rest of the tea. “Okay,” he murmured, taking a steadying breath before standing. He paused outside the kitchen, hearing what sounded like sobs, but that wasn't anything new. At least not since his father forced him into training.

He made his way through the halls to his father's study, knocking twice before letting himself inside.

His father glanced up from some papers, looking him over as he shut the door behind him. He sat back in his chair, setting his pen down neatly beside the papers. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you back so quickly.”

Guang-Hong stiffened and kept silent.

“I trust you’re done with your foolish whims?”

He frowned in confusion, though he responded on instinct. “是的, 父亲.”

“Good.” His father motioned him closer, looking him over again, and Guang-Hong could _see_ his doubt. “I intend for you to be my heir. To do that you must throw away your scabbard and become the embodiment of a bare blade.” He sighed and picked up his pen again. “You’ve rusted in your days away from here.”

“是的, 父亲. I was just going to train.” It wasn't a complete lie, he did feel restless, like he hadn't properly stretched in days. He didn't exactly like hearing his father remind him he was to inherit, but somehow... it didn't seem like such a bad fate anymore. What else did he have going for him? His hands were stained beyond cleansing and each new mission added another vengeful spirit to haunt him. He may as well become the best at what he was good at.

“Good.”

Guang-Hong sighed softly and bowed, taking the dismissal for what it was. He did feel like training; maybe it would help clear his head. He headed to his room, finding some loose clothes he could move in and tossing them in a bag.

Minako’s studio was only a few minutes’ walk away and he let himself in through the back, pausing to listen for any music or lessons going on and breathing a soft sigh of relief when there was only silence. He moved to the room he usually used, flipping on the lights and starting up the record player. It started blaring as soon as it warmed up, music that was familiar, quick and upbeat, full of brass and loud enough to sound like a parade was going by just outside. He removed the record with a twitch, staring at it as it snapped in two.

Well, it was stupid music anyway. He set it aside, looking through the others and pulling out one Minako usually used for her own practices. The soft treble of a violin filled the room and he let out a long sigh of relief, relaxing into the music as he stretched. It was far less headache-inducing than the other and he almost didn’t feel guilty for breaking it. His muscles protested until they warmed up enough he could move with the music, and when a flute joined with the violin, he lost himself in it completely, in the quiet strain that flowed between the rise and fall of the strings. Sometimes it was just a whisper or drowned beneath the violin, and he found himself struggling to focus on it, to hear its full melody.

His arms stretched further, his movements flowing easier than they usually did, and he was grateful for the lack of an audience. By the time the music reached its end, he was reaching out for it, trying desperately to grasp what it offered. Something he’d had a taste of and lost. Freedom, maybe, though he could hardly imagine what that even was anymore.

He turned as the door opened, nodding to Minako and catching the towel she tossed to him.

“Welcome back.”

Guang-Hong made a face as he wiped off the faint sheen of sweat forming, tempted to ask if she knew where he'd been, but she only knew him as the son of a wealthy merchant. “Thank you.” He watched her move to a locked cupboard in the corner of the room, pulling out a couple of épées and tossing one over to him.

“Now that you’re warmed up, why don’t we see how you’ve kept up?” Minako smirked as she flicked her own sabre, making it sing through the air before settling into position.

He returned the smirk with one of his own, tossing the towel aside and tapping his épée to hers. How long had it been since he sparred with someone? Weeks, at least. His instincts hadn’t rusted as much as his father seemed to think. He blocked her first several feints with ease, though he knew she was only toying with him. The music shifted to another song, the violin quicker, feverish almost, and it fueled their sparring.

Had the tips been bare, they would have both been covered in cuts and scratches within minutes. Minako’s movements were as graceful as ever, quick and lithe on her feet as she incorporated her dance skills into evading and striking. Guang-Hong didn’t have the years of practice that she did, but he was younger, and he’d been trained to read his opponent. It was enough to keep them on equal footing.

They continued through another song, and when the next one swelled with the quiet, haunting refrain of the flute again, his footing faltered. He hissed in pain as her sabre dug into his shoulder, stumbling back as his concentration shattered completely, chest heaving as he panted for air.

“You lasted longer than I expected you would,” Minako said with a smile, toying with the rubber covering on the tip of her épée. “Not bad.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, wincing as he became aware of the burn in his muscles, but it felt good. Grounding. He handed his sabre over and picked the towel back up. “Sorry about your disc.”

“What?” She paused near the player, frowning as she spotted the pieces of the record. “Did it call you a name?” she asked dryly.

“It was an accident. I'll replace it.”

Minako waved her hand in dismissal. “I didn't much care for that one anyway.” She put the sabres back and turned with a smile. “It’s good to have you back. Sorry for whatever happened though.”

Guang-Hong glanced up after peeling his sweat-drenched shirt off. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the cupboard. “You look different. Sad, I guess, but...”

He looked away, pulling a clean shirt and pants on. He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. “Thanks for the lesson.”

The sun was high enough to be blinding when he stepped out and he squinted as he walked away from home. He wasn't sad. He had no reason to be _sad,_ he didn’t even... remember anything to _be sad_ _about._ Why did he even come back, if he'd been away, been _free?_ He would have made an escape, wouldn't he?

Maybe he hadn't hit his head. Maybe his father had sensed his intention to run and sent someone to bring him back, and take his memory at the same time.

He shook his head with a sigh. It wasn't like his life was anything like in his books. There was no such things as magic or even love, at least not for someone like him.

He glanced up as he stepped out onto one of the main streets and headed for his favorite café. He caught a glimpse of brown hair and brown eyes moving towards him in the bustle of the crowd, and he paused as his heart skipped. He reached out on instinct, grabbing the man's arm to stop him so he could get a better look, but... he didn't recognize him. Why would he recognize him? Who was he even looking for? “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay.”

The man looked so familiar, but he didn't even really know anyone who looked like that, did he? Certainly not anyone to freak out over.

“Uh... are you okay?”

 _Shit_. He looked down to see he was still holding onto the man's arm. “Sorry, I'm so sorry.” He pulled away and turned to stalk down sidewalk, hunching his shoulders like could hide from embarrassment. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, wait... Do you want to grab some coffee?”

He stopped and turned in bewilderment. “What?”

The man smiled and shrugged. “Well, you looked disappointed that I wasn’t who you were looking for, and my lunch companion canceled, so...”

Guang-Hong stared at the man a long moment. Was this what they called Fate? ...Why was he so obsessed with things that could only happen in books today? Maybe whatever he couldn’t remember was still affecting him. Who knew a taste of freedom could be such a powerful thing?

He tilted his head with a faint smile. “Sure.” What the hell did he have to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 是的, 父亲 - Shì de, fùqīn - Yes, Father.
> 
> \-----
> 
> I promise there is Leoji coming up, eventually. And a happy ending.


	9. Chapter 9

After his initial shock at being asked out wore off, they ended up at the café Guang-Hong had been heading to. By the time they arrived, he’d learned the man’s name was Ren, and he was four years older than him at twenty-six.

A bell jingled as he opened the door and he reflexively lead the way to his favorite table, tucking his bag under his chair and settling beside the large window that overlooked the street below. It had a perfect view of the main road leading out of town. He'd spent hours in this spot with a book or just watching people, envying them their simple lives, imagining he was any one of them and could follow the road to wherever it lead.

“This is one of my favorite lunch spots. It's a shame it likely won't last much longer.”

Guang-Hong looked up in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

Ren glanced up from his menu. “Because of the new taxes.” He raised an eyebrow when Guang-Hong merely stared at him. “They went into effect a few days ago. New taxes on property, coffee, and alcohol.” He shrugged and turned back to his menu. “Ever since Lord Ciao-Ciao’s murder, this kingdom has been in turmoil.”

“Lord Ciao-Ciao?”

“Most knew him as Lord Celestino.”

Guang-Hong stiffened and ducked his head, staring at his menu without really seeing it. He knew that name; remembered that night well: The large house at the top of the hill, the new moon, shadows in the dark. The spill of hot blood on his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but that was a mistake as he saw the memories playing out - vivid and clear in his mind’s eye. His stomach twisted and he gripped the edge of the table as vertigo swept over him.

“Are you okay?”

He sucked in a breath, eyes flying open as a hand gripped his arm. Brown eyes met his and the panic faded away beneath the weight of Ren’s concern. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just a bit dizzy.”

Ren hesitated before nodding, squeezing Guang-Hong’s arm before releasing him.

The waiter came by for their order and he ordered a spiced coffee with some peaches and cream. Ren settled for tea and a sandwich.

“So who were you looking for?” Ren asked, crossing his arms on the table in front of him as he leaned forward.

“Wh- oh. I... I'm not sure. You just looked familiar?”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Someone from a dream?” he asked with a faint smile.

Guang-Hong flushed and looked away. “I'm not that naive.”

“Chasing your dreams is naive?”

He frowned, peeking back up at Ren, sure he was making fun, but he looked sincere enough. He sighed and wrapped his fingers around his coffee as it arrived. “Isn't it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it shows a strong sense of spirit to be able to chase your dreams these days.”

Guang-Hong tilted his head, relaxing a bit as he eyed the stranger across from him. He may not have known him, or even who he reminded him of, but maybe that was okay. Ren seemed decent enough, and he ignored the tug of guilt for even being near him for the moment. It wasn’t like he’d be close to him long enough to draw him into the bloody life he led. “Maybe.”

Ren chuckled, sitting back as their food arrived. “You sound like you don’t believe in dreams.”

With a sigh he reached for a slice of peach, dipping it in the glob of cream. Did he believe in dreams? He thought he might have at one point, when he’d been able to lose himself in his books and wondered if those things could really happen. If magic really existed somewhere. Now... it felt like believing in dreams was a waste of time. What was the point, when his fate was decided? “I guess I don’t,” he said, taking a bite of his peach. He closed his eyes to savor it and ended up gagging instead. It tasted spoiled, oversweet and a touch rancid. He spit it out into his hand with a grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

Guang-Hong shook his head, sipping his coffee and swishing it around in his mouth to clear out the taste. “I think the peaches are bad.”

Ren reached over for one of the slices and took a bite. “Tastes fine to me.” He ate the rest of the slice before pushing his plate over. “Would you like part of my sandwich?”

Guang-Hong felt heat creeping up his neck as Ren ate off his plate. “I’m fine. Thank you.” He pushed the peaches aside and wrapped his fingers around his coffee to sip at it. At least it tasted normal. He did end up accepting a small piece of Ren’s sandwich at his insistence, pushing the peaches from his mind as he focused on the other male.

Ren was surprisingly easy to chat with, and Guang-Hong found his lingering reservations vanishing with each passing minute. He didn't _do_ things like this, but he couldn't deny it was nice, speaking with someone as though he weren't an assassin. Pretending to be normal.

It didn't hurt that Ren was rather cute. Maybe that was the wrong word, but he found himself staring more than once when Ren smiled, enjoying the way his eyes lit up or his cheeks dimpled. Gorgeous was likely a better term, but that made him sound infatuated. He wasn't _infatuated_ with someone he'd just met; it didn't happen like that outside of stories. Right?

Even still, when he realized the lunch crowd had long since cleared and the sun was halfway in its descent towards the horizon, he found he didn’t want this to end. Maybe he was just reluctant to lose his excuse for not returning home, despite being gone for hours.

Ren cleared his throat as their conversation lulled and they both became aware of just how long they’d been sitting there, the early-dinner crowd already trickling in. “If you don’t have plans for tonight, we could go somewhere quieter?”

Guang-Hong blinked and stared at Ren, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he realised just what he was suggesting. “Ah-”

Ren smiled, not unkindly, and somehow that just made the guilt he’d been feeling from the start so much worse. “I’m sorry. That was too forward.”

“No, I...” He swallowed and turned his empty cup between his hands as he took a breath. He was twenty-two; knew his life would end in blood sooner or later. He deserved to live while he had the chance, didn’t he? Before he became just another tool of his father’s? “Okay.”

Ren blinked in surprise before smiling. “Okay.”

The walk to Ren’s place was quiet, almost awkwardly so, and Guang-Hong debated on calling it off and returning home twice. In the end, he was curious enough to see it through, especially when Ren suggested making pasta for dinner.

When they stepped into a large apartment complex in the newer part of town, it was like stepping into another world. Out of the grimy, foul-smelling kingdom, and into a pristine one with marble floors and shiny brass and copper fixtures. Instead of stairs, a large box run by hundreds of whirring gears carried them up to the fifth floor. The lock on Ren’s door was just as intricate; he could hear the click of gears on the other side when he turned the key.

He couldn’t help the soft gasp as he stepped inside. Hardwood floors, large windows with a nice view of the city. All the rooms were large and open, the only doors seeming to be the ones leading to the bathroom and the bedroom.

“Would you like a drink?” Ren asked, shedding his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair on his way to the kitchen.

“Please.” Guang-Hong set his bag on the floor, leaning against the island counter in the kitchen. He accepted the glass of tea and sipped on it, watching as Ren busied himself with making dinner, finding it oddly soothing and familiar in a way. He turned and looked around, spotting a record player and biting his lip against a grin. “Could I put on some music?”

Ren looked up with a smile. “Sure. If you can find something you like.”

He raised an eyebrow as he moved to look through the discs, marveling at how old some of them were. Minako would wet herself if she saw some of these and he couldn’t help a faint smirk at the thought of being able to tell her he’d listened to Diamanda Galás or Maria Callas. Or half a dozen others he found in the collection. “This is... a wide range of tastes,” he murmured, smiling faintly as he heard Ren laugh.

“Why limit yourself to just one kind of music?”

Guang-Hong grinned over his shoulder, settling on an older disc with a worn and faded sleeve. Soft jazz music filled the room as it began playing and he adjusted the volume before stepping back, swaying to the piano and guitar and the quiet beat of cymbals. He closed his eyes and spun around, opening his eyes and flushing as he saw Ren watching him.

“Do you know how to dance?” Ren asked, stirring the sauce and tasting it before covering it to let it simmer.

“I might,” he replied, stepping into an _adagio_ combination before thinking better of it; it didn’t fit the music. He cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair as he moved back to the counter. He could feel Ren’s eyes on him and deliberately kept from looking up as he sipped his tea.

“Mm, so you might dance with me?”

Guang-Hong flushed darker, glancing up at Ren through his bangs. “I guess it depends on how good your food is.”

Ren laughed, picking up a handful of dry pasta and breaking it in half, dropping it in the boiling water. “Fair enough. Though if that’s the determining factor, I should warn you my pasta is delicious.”

Guang-Hong smirked. “Then maybe you’ll get more than a dance,” he said, eyes going wide as he realized what he’d just said. He could feel his _ears_ burning as he ducked his head, pressing a hand to his lips as he sucked in a steadying breath. Where the _hell_ had that come from? He shivered as he heard Ren chuckle, wishing he could drown himself in his glass.

“You know, I’m not expecting anything of you... We can just see where it goes.”

 _See where it goes._ Those words were strangely familiar, but he couldn't place why or remember where he’d heard them. He scratched at his chest as he glanced up with a faint smile. “Fair enough.”

As it turned out, the pasta _was_ delicious. He devoured two large platefuls, much to Ren’s amusement and his own embarrassment. The red wine that went with it was even better, though he refrained from a third glass.

The last song on the disc ended before they were finished cleaning up and he moved to look through the others again, switching it out with the second disc of that collection. He shivered as he felt Ren’s warmth behind him as piano and saxophone started playing, toying with the settings on the player as an excuse not to turn around. Something like a squeak tried to escape him when Ren placed a hand on his arm and nudged him around anyway.

“You like the instrumental music?”

Guang-Hong turned with a shrug, sucking in a breath as Ren took his hand and tugged him out to the open floor. “Singing usually gets in the way of the story of the song,” he murmured, warm tingles spreading out from Ren’s hands on his hand and hip. He licked his lips and lifted his other arm to rest along Ren’s shoulder, falling into the slow steps as Ren led the dance.

Ren hummed, keeping a polite amount of space between them as they moved. “So you are a dreamer.” He smiled when Guang-Hong finally looked up at him with a tilt of his head. “Hearing the unspoken stories in music? It’s not something many would even think to listen for.”

He shrugged, lowering his eyes to his hand on Ren’s shoulder. It was just something he’d always done, though he was finding it hard right then to hear anything but the notes playing. There was nothing that seemed to pull him into the music like when he’d danced that morning, but he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. His father had never liked that he got lost in his own head so much, and he had agreed to set aside his “foolish whims.” He really shouldn’t have come here; this was nothing if not a foolish whim. What was he hoping to come of this?

“Are you okay?”

Guang-Hong flushed, ducking his head as he sucked in a breath and focused on dancing. “Sorry.” He shivered as Ren pulled him closer, goose flesh traveling down his neck as warm breath tickled his ear.

“You apologize a lot,” Ren murmured, fingers flexing against Guang-Hong’s.

He bit his lip against saying sorry again, though he wasn’t able to keep from letting his head fall forward to rest against Ren’s shoulder. “I have a lot to apologize for,” he murmured under his breath. He expected Ren to brush the comment aside, or offer a platitude or idiom as response. He didn’t expect the press of warm lips on his temple, or the feel of Ren’s hand sliding from his hip to his lower back, tugging him closer.

“Not to me.”

His breath caught in his throat, tears stinging his eyes though he couldn’t figure out why. This was... dangerous. He didn’t even know Ren; he was probably just buttering him up to try and get him on his back. For some reason, that didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should. It actually sounded like... just what he needed. To feel wanted, even if it was just for one night.

Guang-Hong lifted his head, glancing up at Ren, gaze lingering on his lips. He slid his hand along Ren’s shoulder, coming to rest against his neck and brushing his fingers against Ren’s jaw. He was hyper-aware of the fact they'd stopped dancing, of the way Ren leaned down from the two inches of height he had on Guang-Hong. He tilted his head, leaning in and up, fingers curling around Ren’s as their lips touched.

Tendrils of something like a shock traveled down his spine and he parted his lips on a gasp. He pulled his other hand free from Ren’s, reaching up to curl it around his neck as Ren’s arms wrapped around his back.

Ren pulled back enough to bump their noses together, tilting his head to ghost his lips over Guang-Hong’s cheek before moving back to his lips.

Guang-Hong shivered, flicking his tongue out with a soft keening sound of pleasure. He pressed closer, fingers sliding into Ren’s hair, warmth fluttering in his stomach at the touch of Ren’s tongue to his.

They pulled away at a knock on the door.

Ren sighed, pressing his forehead to Guang-Hong’s with a soft sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “I need to answer that.”

Guang-Hong nodded, struggling to catch his breath and belatedly dropping his hands from Ren’s hair. He stepped back, watching Ren turn for the door and lifting a hand to press his fingertips to his lips, unable to help the smile at the thought of kissing him again. He bit his lip and turned to look through the discs again as the door opened, though he couldn’t help but listen for any conversation.

“Inspector! I’m sorry to bother you so late, but there’s been another one.”

He stiffened at the crisp words, glancing over his shoulder to see a man step inside, dressed in a standard grey police uniform.

The officer paused as he spotted Guang-Hong, straightening and looking to Ren. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Ren lifted a hand. “It’s fine. Report.”

“A body, Sir. Like the others. The report just came in from the Ravine.” He handed over a paper, which Ren took and looked over.

Guang-Hong curled his fingers into fists, fighting the instinct to fight or flee. He was unarmed - though that was likely in his favor this time - and it wasn't as though he were anything other than a... guest. Still, he supposed it was good he found out exactly who Ren was now, before anything _more_ could happen.

He steadied his breathing, kiss forgotten as he took measured steps towards his bag. “I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, forcing a smile as he slung it over his shoulder.

Ren glanced up, brow furrowed as he sighed. “I’m sorry. Lunch tomorrow?”

Guang-Hong slipped past the officer near the door, calling a hasty ‘Maybe’ over his shoulder as he made his escape. Once he was outside and away from the building, he quickened his step, pressing a hand to his chest as he struggled to keep from hyperventilating.

His eyes stung and anger swelled up in his chest; at himself for being so stupid and at the world in general for tormenting him like this. Foolish whims indeed. He’d nearly... _slept_ with an officer. One thing was for sure: no matter how much he’d enjoyed the kiss, he could never risk seeing Ren again.

He slipped into the house, noting the light on in his father’s study and quietly stepping past. He took a hot shower, losing himself in the stinging spray as long as he dared, and by the time he returned to his bedroom, there was a warm cup of tea waiting for him. He downed it and stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling until his eyelids felt heavy enough to close them.

* * *

 The next day found him in his father’s office, looking over contracts and fake loans and learning the tricks for making everything look legitimate on the books. His father hadn’t been kidding about making him his heir, and apparently returning from his unremembered time away had solidified his father’s intentions.

By the time he was freed, he had a migraine and only enough energy left to eat dinner and return to bed.

His sleep was restless and he woke with the beginnings of a headache and the sense of falling. His chest ached, too, though it faded after breakfast.

His father introduced him to an assistant to Lord Popovich, expressing his desire to hand over any future dealings between the Popovich family to Guang-Hong. It took until the afternoon to catch him up on all the relevant information, and he made a hasty escape once he was able, slipping out with every intention of not returning until late in the evening.

His usual café was in the lull between lunch and dinner. He ordered a sandwich and didn't look too closely at the fact it was the same one Ren had ordered. He wanted to linger and simply sit and watch, but the memory of sitting there with Ren and pretending to be normal was too much to bear.

The library was only a block away and he couldn't resist the promise of quiet and sanctuary. As he rounded the corner and the large building came into sight, so did Ren.

He froze, glancing for something to duck behind, but it was too late. Ren was already moving towards him, hand lifted in greeting.

“Guang-Hong!”

He took a steadying breath and forced a smile, hating the flutter in his chest at the sight of him despite knowing he couldn't ever get close to him again. “Ren.”

Ren stopped a foot away, brushing back his leather jacket and slipping his fingers into the pockets of his trousers. The leather looked good on him, trim and crisp, the deep red of his tie and the sleek black-and-silver gun and knife strapped to his thigh a nice complement to it. “I missed you for lunch.”

Guang-Hong flushed. “I'm sorry, my father insisted on keeping me busy until evening.” His guilt was assuaged by the fact he'd had no chance to slip out even if he had been willing to risk seeing Ren again.

Ren tilted his head with a faint smile. “I was afraid I may have done something wrong.”

He glanced away as his face burned hotter at the vivid memory of the kiss. _Why_ did he have to be an _officer?_

Ren sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Or did I?”

Guang-Hong curled his fingers into fists, steeling himself before looking up. “I'm sorry, but the other night was a mistake. I can't get involved with anyone right now.”

Ren stared in silence before letting out a sigh. “I see.” He smiled faintly before straightening. “I'm sorry, too. Actually... I need you to come with me to the station.”

Guang-Hong stiffened, staring at Ren with wide eyes as a chill swept through him. No. No way. There was no way Fate would be this cruel. No way those he’d killed would have a way to ruin his life this completely. He let out a slow breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t even run, could he? He opened his eyes and leveled a look at Ren, lifting his chin and steeling himself for the coming blow as he fell into step behind the other male.

Half an hour later, he was pacing an office, one window looking out onto a small park, another giving a view of the rest of the station. He tensed as he spotted Ren returning, straightening with his arms crossed as the door opened. “Shouldn’t I be in a room with no windows?”

Ren raised an eyebrow, tugging the blinds closed in front of the window looking out on the others to give them some privacy. “I told you, you’re not bound by law, no matter what my Director wants.” He handed over a cup of coffee before sitting on the edge of his desk.

Guang-Hong took the cup, sighing and sinking into a chair when Ren motioned for him to sit. “Then what am I here for?”

“I have some questions. Guang-Hong, please stop glaring. Despite what reservations you may have about me, I am only trying to help, as you asked.”

He narrowed his eyes, pausing with the coffee halfway to his lips. “What are you talking about?” He’d never asked for help.

Ren sighed, standing and moving around his desk to open a drawer. He pulled out a folder and flipped through some papers, finally holding one out to Guang-Hong. “Your letter.”

“My what?” Coffee forgotten, he set it aside and reached for the paper, staring at the neat lettering of his own hand, at his own precise signature. There was no doubt it was his hand, but he didn’t recall writing a letter. Certainly not one... naming his father as the man behind the deaths of those he’d killed. “I didn’t write this.” He hadn’t, had he? He wouldn’t have sent this kind of letter if he’d had any intention of ever coming back.

He rubbed at his temple, closing his eyes against the migraine that seemed to get stronger the longer he looked at the letter.

“Are you sure?”

Guang-Hong sighed, pressing his fingers against his eyes until he saw bursts of colors. “No,” he whispered. Why couldn’t he remember? Surely he’d remember... betraying his own father?

Ren sighed, moving to crouch in front of Guang-Hong’s chair. “Is it true?”

He opened his eyes, staring at Ren, at the misplaced concern in his eyes, and felt ill. “If it is?”

“Then I want to ask for your help in stopping him.”

He closed his eyes again as the world seemed to tilt out from under him, grasping the arm of the chair as he breathed - in through his nose, out through his mouth. He tensed as Ren’s hand rested on his arm, though it grounded him far quicker than it had any right to. “You want me to betray my family.”

Ren shook his head, squeezing Guang-Hong’s arm. “I’m asking you to protect those he would try to kill next.”

Guang-Hong shivered, every fibre of his being wanting to do just that, but... “Why? They’re corrupt.”

Ren tilted his head with a frown, straightening and shifting to settle into the second chair without removing his hand. “The last few weren’t. Lord Celestino was one of the few working to fight those trying to steal land from the central forest or to raise taxes to fund their operations once they did.”

Guang-Hong curled his fingers into fists, ignoring the crumple of the letter as he crushed it in his hand. “No.” That couldn’t be true. His father... was what? He was a complete unknown. What did he really know of what his father truly did? All he had to go on was the word of someone who used his own son as an assassin.

The assistant to Lord Popovich had set him ill at ease, and he’d expected to be given some sign he was to be a target, but from what he’d seen, Popovich was one of his father’s biggest contracts.

He glanced down at his arm, at Ren’s fingers resting there still, and tensed as he pulled away. “You knew. From the beginning. You knew who I was and were planning on asking this of me the entire time.”

“No.” Ren sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “You stopped me, remember? I suspected, but... I wasn’t sure until my detective followed you home the other night.” He leaned in closer, tilting his head until he caught Guang-Hong’s eye. “Guang-Hong, your father has been manipulating you. Whatever your involvement is, I’ll make sure you’re cleared, so long as you help me stop him.”

He shuddered as his chest constricted, torn between loyalty and... being _free_. The only way that could ever happen now would be for his father to be stopped. He closed his eyes, slumping back in his seat. “How?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated, but I promise I haven't abandoned it! It may be a bit again before the next update orz

Ren’s plan turned out to be quite simple: Guang-Hong only needed to be Ren’s eyes and ears and let him know when and who the next target would be. Somehow, it was easier than he thought it would be. The weight of guilt at knowing he was actively working against his father wasn’t as heavy as he expected, though it was likely swamped beneath the blood-soaked guilt of killing and the constant, lingering ache in his chest. 

There was no little amount of anger either, knowing his father had not only been using him, but lying to him about... everything. The pain and anger were becoming familiar, and he was following his father’s suggestion, channeling them into a blade. 

He stood at his father’s side as days passed, gathering all the information he could: on the business, his contacts, anyone who might be involved. His father had managed to climb his way up whatever ladder existed in the underworld, but he wasn’t at the top. And if Guang-Hong was going to bring down his father... he wanted Ren to get those responsible as well. 

He took the ledger his father passed to him,  glancing up at a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Yan-Ming called.

Guang-Hong watched as the door opened, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Phichit before straightening. Was he finally to be given a target? Now that he thought about it, his father always seemed to arrange a hit after Phichit came by. 

Phichit smiled, touching the top of his cane to his hat in greeting. “大哥,” he said, and even Guang-Hong could hear the mocking tone in it. “Good to see you again.”

Yan-Ming grunted quietly, closing his second ledger - the fake one he kept in his drawer - and sitting back in his seat. “Phichit.” 

Guang-Hong took a step back, turning to set the real ledger aside to hide the twist of his lips. His father always took it as a personal affront to see Phichit so cheerful. 

Yan-Ming stood, straightening his jacket. “My son will see to you. I have an appointment.”

Guang-Hong glanced back, only hiding his surprise through habit and training. He glanced at Phichit in time to see his surprise before he regained his own composure. “是的, 父亲.” He stepped back to the table as his father left, the door closing quietly behind him. He stood beside the chair and turned his attention back to Phichit, glancing at the box tucked under his free arm before motioning him to take a seat. 

Phichit set the box on the table before flicking his fingers. “Won’t be long.” He smiled at Guang-Hong, though it looked strained. “You look good.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow. “...Are you flirting?”

“What?” Phichit’s brow creased even as he laughed. “Absolutely not. But I did bring a gift, though I suppose it can be yours. You’ll appreciate it more than your father.” 

He caught the box when Phichit slid it towards him, eyeing the other male a moment before opening it. Inside was a sword. When he picked it up, he couldn't help but feel he'd seen it before. He turned it over, tracing his finger over a crack that had been filled in with gold, breath catching as he spotted his family's crest. “Where did you find this?”

Phichit shrugged, smile widening. “I've got friends in strange places.” He tapped his cane twice, smile faltering as he cleared his throat. “So you're taking over for your father?”

Guang-Hong tensed, setting the sword back in the box with a nod. “Eventually.” He looked up with a sigh; there was no use stalling. If Phichit had a target, that meant this could all be over soon. “You have a name?”

“Yes. Lord Popovich.” 

He must not have controlled his surprise well enough because Phichit raised an eyebrow. 

“That's not going to be a problem, is it?”

Guang-Hong forced a smile. “No, of course not. I’ll let my father know.” 

Phichit nodded, stepping away from the table, hesitating as he turned for the door. “Take care of yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, not able to find a suitable response before the door closed behind Phichit. What was that about? He couldn’t ignore the feeling he should know. With a sigh, he picked up the box with the sword, switching it with the ledger which he took to the safe upstairs. 

By the time his father returned two hours later, he was on edge, ready to tell his father who Phichit had named and get the order for the attack. This could all be over in just a few days and then... what? 

He couldn’t forget Ren’s offer of being with him, of getting him away from this life. He thought maybe he would travel. The city was too stuffy, too crowded. He’d rather be someplace with fresh air. Somewhere he could make a new life, pretend he wasn’t a murderer. 

He rubbed at his chest as he eyed his father. “Phichit’s named Lord Popovich.”

Yan-Ming raised an eyebrow, grunting as he glanced up from his papers. “I see.”

Guang-Hong waited several heartbeats for his father to give him the order to plan an attack, shifting when he merely went back to his work. He felt sick as he realised his father wasn’t going to order the hit on Popovich. Of course he wouldn’t. “Who will we be attacking?”

Yan-Ming sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “The Bin family.”

Guang-Hong sucked in a breath, grasping the back of a chair to keep from sinking into one. His father had been friends with Bin for ages; he’d gone to school with Cao Bin and his brother. They were practically brothers themselves even if they hadn’t spoken in awhile. If he’d been needing any solid proof of how far his father had truly fallen... this was it.

His father sighed. “You’re still attached to his sop of a son. All three of them have become a nuisance.”

Guang-Hong swallowed and forced down the anger and panic and fear as he nodded. It was one thing to accept a hit on someone he believed was a criminal, it was another to agree to kill his own friend knowing he was innocent. “是的, 父亲.” He relinquished his hold on the chair and straightened. “Shall I start making plans then?”

Yan-Ming raised an eyebrow. “You’re too important now to send on a job. Minami will handle it tomorrow night. You’ll remain at my side.”

“Of course,” he murmured. Of course Minami would have taken his place in his absence. They’d trained together for years and Minami was one of his father’s favorites. It was only a matter of time until he took his father’s place and Minami took his. He straightened his clothing, hating how restrictive the suit felt. “If that’s all, I’m going out for dinner.”

His father waved a hand as he went back to work. 

Guang-hong turned, taking measured steps out of the office and the house, heading down the street towards the café to find Ren. It was only when he was halfway there he realized he hadn’t sent word ahead that he knew the next target. It didn’t matter. He didn’t think he could stomach eating anyway and headed towards Ren’s place instead. Each step only solidified his resolve. Cao Bin and his family didn’t deserve to be marked. He couldn’t let Minami get to them. 

He didn’t remember most of the walk and was surprised to find he hadn’t gotten lost, collapsing against Ren’s door and banging his fist against it.  _ Please be home.  _ He struggled to breathe as the heat of the building wrapped around him, made him lightheaded. When the door opened, he couldn’t help the sob of relief, looking up to see Ren, and for a moment, his chest didn’t ache and the world wasn’t splintering around him. 

“Ren,” he whispered, stepping inside and clutching at Ren’s shirt. 

“Guang-Hong? What’s happened?” Ren wrapped an arm around Guang-Hong, closing the door before guiding him inside.

“Please don’t let them die.” Guang-Hong gasped, sinking onto the couch and collapsing into Ren’s side. “You were right. My father... Lies.”  _ Innocent blood.  _

Ren cursed and wrapped his arms around Guang-Hong. “Okay, just breathe. Just breathe. Let who die?”

Guang-Hong closed his eyes and sucked in several deep breaths, hands trembling and knuckles white where he kept hold of Ren’s shirt like a lifeline. “The Bin family. Tomorrow night. Minami will attack them, kill all of them.” He sat back, looking up at Ren.  _ “Please.”  _

“Tomorrow night?” Ren cursed again before lifting his hands to Guang-Hong’s face. “Guang-Hong, I promise you, we’ll protect them.”

He shivered, moving his hands to Ren’s wrists as he sucked in a deep breath, the panic subsiding beneath Ren’s calm promise. He nodded, dropping his head against Ren’s shoulder as he sagged in relief.

Ren sighed, rubbing Guang-Hong’s back. “Drink?”

“Please,” he said, voice cracking as he forced himself to pull back. 

“You’re pale. When’s the last time you ate?” Ren cupped Guang-Hong’s cheek, raising an eyebrow at the distinct sound of a stomach growling. 

He flushed and looked away. “This morning I think.”

“That won’t do.” Ren dropped his hand to Guang-Hong’s shoulder, squeezing before getting up. “Come eat,” he said, tugging Guang-Hong to his feet.

He followed Ren to the island, settling on a barstool and slumping against the cool countertop. He curled his fingers around the cool glass of tea Ren set in front of him, draining half of it in one breath. The plate of warm meat and vegetables that followed he devoured almost as quickly, feeling more whole once his hunger was sated. 

Ren moved to stand beside him, resting a hand on Guang-Hong’s arm. “By the Bin family, you mean the council member and his two sons?” He sighed when Guang-Hong nodded. “Okay, we'll move them-”

“No.” Guang-Hong looked up, shifting to grab onto Ren’s arm in return. “If you warn them, word will get back to my father. Minami is already watching them.” He wouldn't strike if something seemed off. His father would know he'd betrayed him, and Ren’s plan would fall to pieces. 

“Okay.” Ren squeezed Guang-Hong’s arm. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

He took a deep breath, staring at Ren’s chest. “Minami, too,” he whispered. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“We’ll do what we can to ensure no one dies.” Ren sighed, squeezing Guang-Hong’s arm again. “For now, you should return home,” he added, voice soft. 

Guang-Hong flinched, dropping his hands to his lap as he sat back. His father didn’t know about Ren. The longer he lingered, the greater the risk of his father becoming suspicious. Or was he being too paranoid? “I can’t just go back there and pretend.”

“I know. This will be over soon, and then...” 

Guang-Hong forced a smile, thankful Ren didn’t say he’d find peace then, or that they could be together; somehow he knew that wouldn't happen, no matter how much he might wish for it. He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself for having to leave and make the trek back home. “I should go so you can get your plans together,” he murmured.

Ren nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Guang-Hong’s forehead. “Be careful. I’ll see you soon.”

He got to his feet, resisting the urge to look back as Ren walked him to the door. The night was warm, stifling even without the sun blazing down. By the time he returned home, he was drenched in sweat and spent far too long in the shower washing it away.

The usual cup of tea waiting for him by the bed was long cold when he found it and he left it untouched as he fell into a restless sleep. 

He woke near dawn in a sweat, the sense of chasing after something lingering with him as he showered again. He skipped breakfast despite his mother’s pleas, his stomach in knots painful enough he couldn’t even choke down a drink. 

The day dragged by and he did what he could to distract himself - organizing files, running the few errands his father had, escaping for a few hours in the afternoon to spar with Minako. The knots grew worse as dusk settled, and the few bites of a sandwich he choked down didn’t help the queasy feeling in the least. 

Once night fell, it only got worse, and he found himself pacing the office, the minutes and then the hours ticking by as they waited for word from Minami that the job was done. He stopped as he felt his father’s disapproving glare, tensing and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed instead. 

“You should have sent me,” he murmured.

“I need you here.”

Guang-Hong sighed, eyeing his father and trying not to be paranoid. There was no way his father knew anything, he’d only spoken to Ren the once, last night, after making the plan. 

He looked up as he heard a door close, followed by shuffling feet. Several shuffling feet. His instincts kicked in automatically and he moved across the room for the package Phichit had left, drawing the sword as the doors to the office opened to admit two officers. 

And Ren. 

All with weapons drawn.

“Ji Yan-Ming, you are bound by law for the murder of several ranking officials.”   
  
Relief and worry flooded Guang-Hong even as he drew the sword, moving closer to his father despite knowing it was over. Some part of him wanted to still be seen as a loyal son. 

“What are you waiting for?” Yan-Ming said. “Kill them.”

Guang-Hong tensed, glancing back at his father. A sword was no match for the guns the police carried. His speed and skill might let him kill one or two, but not all three, even if he'd been willing to kill Ren. 

His father sneered when he didn't move. “So it’s true. My own flesh and blood has turned against me.” 

Ren moved forward, motioning Guang-Hong aside as he kept his gun trained on Yan-Ming. “It’s over.”

Guang-Hong’s fingers shook as he clutched at his sword. “Cao Bin?” he asked softly. 

Ren glanced back at him, though whatever he was going to say was interrupted as Yan-Ming surged forward. 

Guang-Hong caught the flash of metal, his instincts forcing his sword arm up before his mind had a chance to process what was happening. It wasn’t until his hand was pressed into his father’s shirt, felt the first hint of dampness, that he understood. He stumbled back, too shocked to release the sword, and it came free with a sickeningly wet sound, blood beading along the oiled blade. 

He dropped to his knees, distantly aware of the sword clattering to the ground, of Ren calling his name, the officers dragging his father out of the room, though he knew there was no saving him; he never missed his mark. 

He was aware, peripherally, of moving, of being pushed into a carriage, of hushed, urgent whispers, but the entire time he could only think:  _ It’s over. My father tried to kill me. It’s over. I killed my father.  _ His mind wasn’t allowing those thoughts to take root; they were foreign, half-acknowledged. 

His body was cold. It wasn’t unlike the first time he’d killed, the way his body shook and emptied itself, the way he’d lost time and come back to himself, alone in his room, still bloody.

When he came back this time, it was to the sensation of a warm, wet cloth wiping his hands. He blinked, staring at his hands, before his eyes moved up, a shock of surprise going through him as they settled on Ren’s face and recognized his living room. He licked his lips, until the terrible sensation of cotton diminished. “Is he-” he started, voice hardly above a whisper.

Ren looked up with a strained expression, and that was all the answer Guang-Hong needed.

He closed his eyes, feeling what little strength he had left drain out of him. “What now?” 

“Now... You get some rest. And I go back to work and try to find another way to find the one truly behind all this.” 

“Popovich,” he murmured, slumping back against the cushions. His mind refused to work how he wanted, but that name, he knew, held things together. “Second painting in hall, real ledger,” he added, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. He just wanted to sleep. His chest ached, and there was a pressure behind his eyes, like something trying to escape. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke from a dream of dark eyes and the sensation of falling, the ache in his chest worse than before, stealing the breath from his lungs as everything came rushing back with crystal clarity. The flash of silver, the warmth of blood. 

He choked back a sob, curling on his side and finding himself in a bed. He scrambled out of it with a whimper, hitting the floor and looking around with wide eyes. This wasn’t his room. 

Ren.

He was in Ren’s bedroom. 

It felt  _ wrong.  _ Everything felt wrong. How could it not? 

He’d betrayed his own family. He had innocent blood on his hands. He had his  _ father’s  _ blood on his hands. 

His own father had... used him. Had never cared for him. How could he have? Even at the end, his own father had tried to kill him. 

He was a killer. 

He didn’t deserve to live.  _ Couldn’t  _ live knowing he’d fallen into his father’s lies and thought he was actually doing good. 

He pressed a hand to his chest, struggling to breathe around the sharp pain, lungs on fire as tears burned his cheeks. He struggled to his feet, throwing open the balcony doors and sucking in the warm night air. It was still stifling, and it stank, but it was better than the stale air of the bedroom. He leaned over the railing, knuckles white where he gripped it as he stared at the ground below. 

It was a dizzying height, but he felt the pull of it calm him, his mind clearing even as the ache in his chest became more painful. 

He couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t return home. 

There was nowhere for him to go. 

He climbed onto the railing, swaying gently as he stared at the empty street below. He should have felt afraid, and he did in a way, his heartbeat painful in his chest, but something like calm settled over him as he realized it could all be over within a few moments. The pain would no longer exist. 

_ He  _ would no longer exist.

He closed his eyes and tipped forward.

His descent was halted by a hand on his wrist, blinding light fading as he looked up to find Phichit staring down at him. “Got’cha.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 大哥 - da-ge - “big brother” - used within gangs  
> 是的, 父亲 - Shì de, fùqīn - Yes, Father.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Guang-Hong stared at Phichit as he lifted him over the railing, as if he weighed nothing. He crumpled to his knees on the balcony, closing his eyes, dizziness swirling through him as it sank in what just happened, what he'd nearly done. And that he'd been stopped. Some part of him knew he should be grateful, but all he felt was the crushing pain in his chest, and a building anger.

“Ji-”

“Shut up!” He pushed to his feet, using the momentum to lash out, punching Phichit in the face. He didn't expect to land the hit, but Phichit didn't even try to dodge or block it. His fist connected with flesh, but it didn’t help anything. He sank to his knees again with a sob, clutching at his chest. “Why did you stop me?”

Phichit sighed, crouching in front of him, one hand wrapped around the long staff he carried, his other holding out a canteen. “Drink this.”

Guang-Hong looked up through the tears stinging his eyes, tempted to smack it away, but what was the point? Either it was poison and it would kill him or... not. He took it, forcing his throat to work as he swallowed. It tasted familiar, left behind a sweetness on his tongue.

“You stopped drinking the tea... That’s why you’re... Why it’s so painful right now.” Phichit held his hand out. “You’ll feel better soon.”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, exhaling a bitter laugh. “No.” He wouldn’t. There was no coming back from this. He slapped at Phichit’s hand, hissing as Phichit caught his wrist, pulling him effortlessly to his feet.

“Come on, Ji. Don’t be difficult.”

Guang-Hong snarled in protest as Phichit tugged him back inside, guiding him to the bed to sit. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” he whispered.

“I know,” Phichit said, voice soft in the quiet of the room. “Just rest for now. We'll figure out how to fix it.”

Guang-Hong slumped to his side against the pillows, watching Phichit as he set his staff aside before lifting Guang-Hong’s legs onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. His mind felt sluggish and he recognized the effects of drugs, but at least while sleeping he wouldn't feel the ache anymore. “How are you here?” There were other questions that lurked just beyond that one, but he couldn't seem to grasp them and he didn't care enough to try harder to make them a coherent thought.

Phichit’s teeth flashed in the dark as he grinned. “Magic.”

Guang-Hong grunted, closing his eyes. He should have been worried that Phichit had broken in so easily, but anyone working for his father was more than they appeared.

He opened his eyes again as a fresh ache of pain blossomed in his chest, hot tears filling his eyes. “I killed my father...”

“I know.” Phichit sighed, stepping closer and reaching out as if to touch him, but he stopped before he got close enough. “Just rest.”

He didn’t have the energy to protest, pressing his face into the pillow with a quiet moan. Sleep was slow in coming, and when it did, he dreamed of golden eyes and something soft against his skin. Fur? There were whispers in his ear - pleas or apologies? - and the warmth of breath against his neck. It was... comforting, the feel of being held. Wanted. Even if it was just a dream.

It was short-lived, the drugs working their way through his system, but it eased something inside him, enough to slip into a deeper sleep.

He woke to the sound of voices, his head foggy and his body warm, dried tears on his cheeks. He sat up with a groan, rubbing at his chest as he looked around. This wasn't his room. Where..? With a moan, he dropped his legs over the edge of the bed and going still. He remembered... everything. His father... His father was dead because of him. His fingers curled tighter against his shirt, but the crushing weight of despair he expected had lifted, leaving behind only guilt and a numbed sense of loss from what he’d done.

The sky was still dark when he glanced to the window. The urge to jump was gone, in its place a mixture of relief and disbelief. How could he have been so lost to consider it in the first place? He pressed his hands to his face, sucking in a breath before forcing himself out of bed and to the door. He paused, peeking out as he heard Phichit and Ren speaking in low tones.

“Should’ve known this was about more than controlling this city,” Ren said.

“How could you? It took me months to put it all together.” Phichit sighed, tapping his staff against the floor where he sat at the counter. “It didn’t help that I put my faith in the wrong person.”

“Who?”

“Yang-Ming.”

Guang-Hong flinched at his father’s name, the door creaking open further as he shifted. He winced when they looked towards him, slipping out of the bedroom with a sigh. He took the cup of coffee Ren offered him, wrapping his fingers around it and sighing as the warmth chased away the chill.

“How are you holding up?” Ren asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I don't feel like jumping from the balcony anymore,” he murmured, glancing up with what he hoped passed for a smile. He winced at Ren’s stricken expression and looked away, focusing on Phichit as he took a sip of the coffee. “What are you doing here?”

Phichit’s eyes flicked to Ren. “It's complicated. But I'm here to take you back.”

Guang-Hong stiffened, taking an instinctive step back and bumping into Ren. “I'm not going home.” He couldn't go back there, to his father's study, seeing... his mother. He wondered how she was dealing with it, but maybe she finally felt free.

Phichit sighed. “I didn't mean home... I'm taking you back to the forest.”

“What forest?” He rarely left the city; he certainly had never been to a forest.

Ren rested his hand on Guang-Hong’s shoulder again and he leaned into the offered comfort. “You mean the Forest of the Gods? Why?”

Phichit nodded, flexing his fingers around his staff. “Because Leo is dying.”

“...Who’s Leo?” And why did hearing the name feel like a dagger had slipped between his ribs?

Phichit rubbed at his forehead with a soft laugh. “An idiot. But if he dies like this, there's a chance you will to.”

Guang-Hong flinched away from Ren. The cup slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor what felt like an eternity later. “What the hell kind of twisted game are you playing?”

“This isn't a game.”

He scoffed, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the strange chill. “You expect me to believe I'm going to die because someone I don't even know dies?”

“Because of a bond, right?”

Phichit looked at Ren in surprise before slowly nodding. “How did-?”

“My aunt was chosen when I was a kid.” Ren glanced to Guang-Hong with a faint smile. “I suspected when I first met you; you had the same touch of magic around you that she always had. Like you'd been kissed by nature.” He bent to pick up the pieces of the mug, tossing them in the trash.

Guang-Hong watched in silence, sinking down onto one of the stools as a headache built behind his eyes. Nothing they were saying made any sense, but their words hurt; seemed to dig into his mind and try to tear down a curtain he'd ignored was there all along.

“You have magic sight?”

Ren snorted quietly, fetching a towel. “Nothing so glamorous. I'm sensitive to it though, or maybe just suspected when Guang-Hong returned. I didn't exactly expect you to come back after sending that kind of letter.”

Guang-Hong rubbed at his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the building ache. That damn letter. “I wouldn't have... Still not convinced I wrote it, I never would have-” Betrayed his family? He _killed_ his father, how could he say he wouldn't have betrayed him?

“You didn't.” Phichit sighed when they looked at him. “I did. As soon as I realized Yang-Ming had turned against us.”

Guang-Hong stared at Phichit, uncomprehending. If Phichit sent the letter... he'd never betrayed his father to begin with. Phichit was the one responsible for his father trying to kill him? If he'd never agreed to help Ren... would his father still be alive? But at what cost? Cao Bin would certainly be dead in his place. But why? What was he missing? Why would Phichit have needed his father in the first place? Why would his father have betrayed him when he'd convinced Guang-Hong through the years that what they were doing was for the betterment of the kingdom? Of all the kingdoms.

He gasped as his headache intensified, a spike of pain lancing through his head. He clutched at his hair as the room tilted and faded, replaced by a bright burst of light.

“Guang-Hong!”

He looked up as the pain eased enough he could see again, finding himself on his back, in Ren’s arms. “I'm fine,” he murmured, struggling to sit up only to have his limbs refuse to cooperate.

“You're bleeding.”

“The bond is disintegrating,” Phichit said, voice tight. “I need to get him back to the forest.”

“No,” Guang-Hong said through gritted teeth.

“Guang-Hong, you’re dying.”

He sucked in a breath, tears stinging his eyes. He deserved to die for everything he’d done. He didn’t realise he’d said that aloud until Phichit spoke.

“That’s not you talking, it’s this cursed bond.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the blood he felt pooling above his lip.

“Guang-Hong.” Ren’s voice was soothing and he hated it. He hated the way his body responded to it, shifting towards it like a starved plant to sunlight. He forced his eyes open, chest constricting at the pale, worried expression that greeted him. When was the last time anyone ever looked at him like that? “Please don’t die.”

Guang-Hong managed to lift a hand, fingers clutching at Ren’s shirt. “Come with me.”

Ren glanced up at Phichit.

“I can’t take two,” Phichit answered. “I can barely manage one. I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t be allowed in anyway, right?” Ren looked back at Guang-Hong with a smile. “We can meet again.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, the strength in his fingers already fading.

Ren nodded, grasping his hand as it fell and squeezing. “Absolutely. But you have to live.”

Guang-Hong didn’t believe him. He was sure that as soon as he left the city, he’d never see it again. What did he have to come back for? “My mother-” he started, clutching Ren’s hand, gritting his teeth as he rode out a spasm of pain.

“I’ll see she’s taken care,” Ren said, his fingers warm around Guang-Hong’s.

Guang-Hong nodded, grimacing as he tasted blood. Of all the ways he could die, he never thought he’d be taken out by _magic._ It felt like his insides were starting to boil.

Phichit cursed. “We’re out of time. This won’t be pleasant.”

That was his only warning before Phichit grabbed his hand and hauled him upright. Bright light enveloped them and then he was falling, Ren’s voice chasing after him, but the words were lost in the rush of indistinct sound.

The boiling sensation was replaced by his limbs twisting to their breaking point, his stomach twisting with nausea. He was sure it emptied itself, but there was no evidence of it when the world finally returned to its natural state. He collapsed to his hands and knees, the touch of cool grass a welcome respite. He sucked in deep breaths of warm air, collapsing forward to press his face into the grass, breathing in the rich scent of earth.

“Chris!” Phichit shouted, banging on a door until it opened. “Can you get him inside?”

“Oh, thank Inari.”

Guang-Hong looked up as someone knelt beside him. The green eyes seemed familiar, but he couldn't remember why. He didn't protest as the stranger helped him to his feet, sure he was only imagining the ears and tail.

“Glad to see you back, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

He couldn’t help the laugh, or the desperate edge to it. He didn’t know what was happening, or if this was even real. The inside of his body was on fire; maybe this was just a fevered hallucination. He could be on the verge of dying, but at least he was distracted from the reality of it.

If he'd thought it was warm outside, inside was sweltering. A low-burning fire offered the only source of light, casting long shadows over earthen walls.

Phichit knelt on the rugs by the fire, where a prone body with... tawny ears and tail rested.

“That’s Leo?” he asked, leaning into Chris, reluctant to lose the support. “What do you expect me to do?” How was he supposed to save him; he looked on the verge of death himself, only the gentle rise and fall of his chest giving any indication of life.

“I don’t know,” Phichit snapped, sucking in a sharp breath and visibly trying to calm himself. “I don’t know; I’m not a kitsune _._ I don’t know how, but he’s redirected the backlash of the bond to himself while still trying to reject it... He’s exacerbated it and it’s killing him, but he was trying to protect you.”

Guang-Hong stared at Leo, hating the feeling that he knew him, knew all of them, but the memories remained just out of reach. He didn’t realise he’d fisted his hand in Chris’ shirt until Chris touched his wrist.

“Just start by letting him know you’re here.”

Part of him wanted to refuse, but he couldn't bear the thought of being the cause of another death if he could prevent it. He swallowed and unclenched his fingers, stumbling across the short distance between them, sinking to his knees on the rugs. He glanced up at Phichit, but there was no advice to be had there, so he looked down at Leo.

When he touched Leo’s fingers, they were cold, though a warm sensation spread through his fingers at the touch. “Leo,” he said, his voice shaking. He tightened his fingers, something shifting at the back of his mind as a deeper instinct took hold.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Leo’s, his other hand moving to curl his fingers in the coarse hair. “Hey,” he murmured, tightening his fingers against Leo’s, closing his eyes against a slow flood of images: a flute, the forest, dancing, bursts of magic, horses, rain. He sucked in a breath as the anguish of being rejected returned, but it was swallowed beneath the despair from the possibility of Leo dying. “Don’t you dare die, you asshole. You don’t get to ruin my life and just _die.”_

Leo stirred, eyes fluttering open and focusing on Guang-Hong, and for a few heartbeats, all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire. “Guang-Hong?” Leo's voice was hardly more than a whisper, his fingers twitching where Guang-Hong held onto them.

“I'm here, you idiot.” He tightened his grip, relief flooding him as the pain in his head eased. He pulled back enough to glare down at Leo, fighting against the hurt of being rejected, the anger of being toyed with. “Now are you going to stop pushing me away or do you really want to die?”

Leo blinked, lowering his eyes with a faint twitch of his lips. “Never meant to hurt you.”

Guang-Hong slid his fingers to touch the base of an ear. “You did,” he said, not ungently. “You nearly killed both of us. Whatever this... rejection is, it made me try to jump to my death.” He met Leo's startled gaze unflinchingly.

Even if there were other extenuating circumstances, he'd never felt that way before; at least not desperate enough to truly go through with it. After his first kill, he'd considered it, wondered what gave him the right to live after taking a life, how he could possibly live with the spirits of all those he killed weighing on him, but his father, ironically, had been the one ease his mind. The world was a better place with a bit less evil in it, after all. He'd clung to that belief with everything he was, and even that was crumbling around him knowing his father had used it against him.

He glanced down at their entwined fingers when Leo's tightened around his, struggling to regain his composure; he remembered how sensitive kitsune noses were. He squeezed back, taking a steadying breath. “I came back, so stop pushing me away.” It may not have been by choice, but hadn't Phichit said something about breaking the bond cleanly? If Leo lived, maybe they could clear up this mess without all the pain.

“Easier to say than do.”

Guang-Hong let out a soft huff, stroking the soft fur of Leo's ear. “What are you scared of?”

“You,” Leo said, voice less than a whisper.

“Me?” Something like a laugh built in his chest, but he swallowed it back.

Leo closed his eyes, ears twitching as he turned his head enough to nuzzle into Guang-Hong’s arm. “The idea of you. What you could be. To me.”

Guang-Hong swallowed, shivers trailing up his arm from the warmth of Leo’s breath. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it didn’t matter since Leo was out cold again. He took the chance to study him, brushing back the dark hair, rubbing an ear between his fingers. When Phichit cleared his throat, he glanced up.

“Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting to get more comfortable and grimacing as he noticed how hot it really was. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, reaching for one of the pillows without releasing Leo’s hand, shifting until he was stretched out beside him.

“His magic has stabilized. You should be feeling better, too.” He pushed to his feet, sweeping his staff behind him to point it at the fire, snuffing it out. The light vanished, though a moment later it was replaced by tiny orbs, floating along the ceiling with a soft purple-black glow.

Guang-Hong breathed a sigh of relief as the intense heat of the flames vanished. “Where are the others?”

“At the Shrine,” Chris said, moving to the table and pouring a glass of water. “They’re trying to break the bond without killing both of you.”

He eyed the glass when Chris offered it to him, reluctantly letting go of Leo’s hand to take it. “How would they do that?”

Chris’ lips twitched into a smile. “With Inari’s help. There’s been concern that the bonds can be dangerous.” His tail flicked when Guang-Hong snorted. “It’s the other side of the coin that came with our blessing.”

“The blessing to save your race?” he asked, sipping the water as Chris nodded. He looked down at Leo, that information painting a more sinister picture of this place. Sacrifices brought in to help save a dying race, bonds formed to keep them close, punishing them if they tried to pull away. It explained why the forest was still shrouded in so much secrecy. He set the glass aside, curling his fingers around Leo’s again and resting his head on the pillow. “Now what?”

“Now you two rest.” Phichit moved to the door, opening it. “Stay with him until... he recovers.”

Guang-Hong nodded, watching them leave before turning his attention to Leo. Warmth fluttered in his chest, though some part of him recognized it as the bond, likely sinking its teeth in now that it wasn’t driving him to suicide.

He settled close, glancing up at the orbs and watching them drift, letting them lull him towards sleep. Ren’s conversation with Phichit came back to him, a quiet murmur at the back of his mind.

If whatever his father had been involved in concerned Phichit, he had a feeling he hadn't escaped it completely either.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted without editing cause that's how I roll

Leo was still asleep by the afternoon, though his body had warmed to a normal temperature and his breathing was even and deep. The danger had passed, at least until Leo woke and likely tried to start fighting the bond again.

Guang-Hong stayed close throughout the day, unable to bring himself to leave. Chris brought food for him and he spent the rest of his time next to Leo or looking around.

He'd never been in one of the kitsune homes before. The walls were earthen, but solid. They were lined with tiny flames of sunlight that brightened as he neared them,and the home itself extended into the ground instead of further back, which explained why it looked so small from the outside. The hall from the main room opened up on a large bedroom further back, a low bed with a nest of covers in the corner. Vines grew along the walls and ceiling, hanging around the bed like a canopy.

Another opened into a deeper room, the air warm from a heated pool of water. It was only then he realised he was still wearing the clothes from - just last night? Somehow it seemed like ages ago that he’d been back home, but it was just yesterday, wasn’t it? His clothes still showed the evidence - splatters of blood darkening his shirt. He stripped it off and tossed it to the corner, the rest of his clothes following.

Even he could sense the magic that permeated Leo's home, a soft hum along the edge of his senses, but it didn't stop him from bathing. An alcove to the side held what looked like soaps and bottles of shampoo. A waterfall cascaded down the wall beside it, the water catching in a smaller pool that drained away from the heated one. He scrubbed himself clean with the tepid water and soap that smelled like the forest. Once he was clean, he moved to soak in the hot water.

Tension eased out of his muscles and he found it easier to breathe. For the first time in weeks, there was no gnawing ache or sense of longing for something just out of reach. Only guilt remained. He wanted to tell himself his father deserved it; he’d betrayed his family and his kingdom. But he was still his father, even if he’d been the type of man to stain his own son’s hands with the blood of innocents.

He needed to see his mother. He should have seen her before he left, but it wasn't like he'd had the chance.

With his head clear, he was sure she'd have gone back home to her sister in the Phoenix Kingdom. It'd be safer there, for now. At least he hoped. He wasn't sure what Phichit was trying to stop, but if it was a power struggle, it would spill into the other kingdoms eventually. And if it involved people corrupt enough that his father had initially tried to stop them before working for them... he had an obligation to help. Maybe it could start to make up for all the mistakes he'd made.

When his skin was flushed with the heat, he finally climbed out. He dried with a towel from the alcove and eyed his clothes with a grimace. He'd rather burn them than wear them again. He wrapped the towel around himself and headed back into Leo's room, hesitating as his eyes settled on the vines again. There was something unsettling about them, as if he were being watched, but that was ridiculous. Right? He scoffed at himself, finding a yukata to slip into before making his way back above ground.

He paused as he saw Leo awake and sitting up. Part of him wanted nothing more than to go to him and stroke the ears like he'd been wanting to since first seeing the kitsune. He knew that was the twisted magic coiling between them and stopped a few feet away from Leo instead.

Leo looked up when he stopped, wariness and confusion etched into his features. “It really wasn't a dream.”

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow, instinctively bracing himself for... something. “No. Phichit brought me back.” He glanced to the fresh tray of food on the table, picking it up and offering it to Leo. “How’re you feeling?”

Leo stared at the tray a moment before taking it, resting it in his lap. “Lighter,” he said, frowning down at the food before looking up. “You tried to...” he started, trailing off when he apparently couldn't finish the thought. “Are you still...?”

Guang-Hong caught his meaning easily enough. “Wanting to kill myself?” he asked, noting Leo's wince. “No. I feel... clear.” He dared take a step closer, dropping down to sit facing Leo. “Does that mean whatever this bond is has settled?”

Leo's ears twitched as he watched Guang-Hong. “Yes. For the most part.”

“Are you going to reject it again?”

Leo flinched, fingers curling into a fist in the covers as he focused his attention on the tray. “No.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a slow breath. “But I don't expect you to trust me enough to keep it. We can dissolve it.”

Guang-Hong swallowed, relief and a fresh sense of loss welling up inside him. “Does that mean we can't have anything to do with each other?”

“Why would you want to?” Leo asked with a soft snort.

“Phichit’s right. You are an idiot.” Guang-Hong sighed, smirking faintly at the wary glare Leo gave him. He shifted closer, until he was sitting beside Leo, reaching over to steal a piece of roasted meat. “I liked spending time with you, when you weren't being a jerk.” He took a bite, hyper-aware of Leo's warmth against his knee.

He had to wonder how much of it all had been because of the pull of the bond between them. What point was there in dwelling on it? “You're right that I don't want the bond.” If it was powerful enough and... petty enough to force someone to kill themselves for being rejected, he wanted nothing to do with it. “And it might just be whatever magic is between us, but I don't see why that should mean we can't start over.”

He didn't expect Leo to accept it. He wasn't sure he even deserved it if Leo did, but right then he felt like everything that might happen once they left this false sanctuary pivoted around their decisions here.

Silence fell between them and he dared risk looking at Leo. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin paler than he remembered. He tilted his head as Leo stared at the food, his fingers flexing against the covers like he was trying to grasp something. “How old are you?” he asked, unsure where the words came from, but there was a weight of years in Leo's eyes he hadn't noticed before.

A crease formed between Leo's eyes as he frowned, glancing up at Guang-Hong, meeting his eyes briefly. Then he was turning his attention to the food again, tearing the roll in half. “Almost eighty,” he said, taking a bite.

 _Eighty?!_ Guang-Hong stared at Leo, and he must have made some type of sound because Leo looked back up at him in surprise. Well, he certainly looked young for eighty..? “Is... that old? For a kitsune.”

Leo’s lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “No. I’m the equivalent to twenty or so by human standards.”

“And your lifespan?” he asked, genuinely curious and trying to keep from talking about what needed to be talked about, at least until Leo had eaten.

“Thousands of years.” Leo did smile when Guang-Hong gaped at him.

He’d heard somewhere the gods were immortal, but seeing as how they were flesh and blood, he’d expected something a _bit_ more reasonable. “Is that why so many people come here as sacrifices?” How many mates did they go through in a single lifetime? He could hardly imagine living that long, let alone loving and losing countless people.

“No.” Leo took a few more bites. “Most of those who come here as sacrifices leave without mating anyone, though Phichit usually erases or blocks their memories.” He didn’t say more until he’d eaten, finishing less than half of what was on the tray, but it was something. “If you help me up, we can go to the shrine. It’d be best to break the bonds before they settle.”

Guang-Hong hesitated, sure it couldn’t be so simple, but he stood anyway. He set the tray aside before grasping Leo’s hands and pulling him to his feet, grunting softly as Leo leaned heavily against him. “Are you sure you should be up?”

“‘M fine,” Leo muttered, though it sounded more like a reflex than an honest answer.

He sighed and supported Leo as best he could, but three steps to the door and Leo’s legs gave out. They collapsed back to the blankets when he failed to keep them both upright. “Sorry.”

Leo shook his head, falling onto his back and resting an arm over his eyes. “It’s okay.”

Guang-Hong reached for Leo’s other hand on instinct, giving his fingers a squeeze. “Why don’t I get Chris or Viktor to help?” he offered, not commenting on Leo’s shudder of a breath. When Leo nodded, he pushed to his feet again. “You’re not going to... do anything stupid, are you?”

Leo’s laugh was strained and he didn’t move his arm from his eyes. “No,” he said, swallowing hard. “No. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

He hesitated a moment longer before moving to the door, squinting in the brilliant light of sunset as he stepped outside. Once his eyes adjusted, he made his way to the dining area, slowing as he saw the others gathered in a heated discussion.

“How long?” Viktor asked, standing behind Yuuri, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Not long,” Phichit answered. He pushed off from where he’d been leaning against a support, running his fingers through his hair as he paced near the table. “They already suspected someone knows. With Yang-Ming dead, they may move within a few days.”

Yuri snarled, slamming his fist onto the table and pushing to his feet. “If they want a fight, we’ll give them a fight!” He snarled at Otabek when he put a hand on his arm. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Whatever they’re planning, they’ve already started. Three leaves are already black.”

There was a ripple of surprised murmurs from the others.

“Yurio!?”

“When?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Yuri glowered at them all, straightening and glancing to Guang-Hong when he moved closer.

Guang-Hong held his tongue against asking what was going on when they fell silent.

Phichit turned towards him, glancing past him with a frown. “Leo?”

“He’s awake. He needs help getting to the shrine.” He glanced to Chris, not missing the hesitant looks of the others before Chris stood.

“Vitya, come help.”

“Is this really the time-”

Phichit interrupted Viktor. “We’ll need them both with a clear head. Let them try and break the bond.”

Guang-Hong looked to Phichit with a frown. “Try?” He looked up at Chris when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“If anyone can break it, it’d be you.” Chris smiled at him, squeezing his shoulder before heading with Viktor to retrieve Leo.

He didn’t get much of a chance to wonder what that meant before Phichit was in front of him. Anger, confusion, and suspicion all surged inside him as he looked at Phichit and saw him for what he was. What he truly was: a mage with strange magic who'd turned his life upside down.

Phichit sighed. “I know you probably don't like me,” he said, wincing at Guang-Hong’s snort before continuing, “much less trust me, but I swear, if there'd been any other way-”

“Don't.” He didn't want apologies or excuses. It wasn’t like they would change anything. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Phichit pressed his lips together, running his fingers through his hair with a sharp breath. “The short of it? There are people who want this forest and its resources for themselves. Your father was helping us protect it until a few months ago. Maybe longer. I wasn’t sure until you killed Celestino.”

Guang-Hong flinched, curling his fingers into fists and taking a slow breath. Now wasn't the time to get lost in guilt and despair again. “Why did he change loyalties?” he asked, though his words came out softer than intended.

“Why does anyone? Money or the promise of power maybe.”

He wanted to deny that, argue that his father wouldn't have been so easily swayed, but it wasn't like he could. He didn't know what to think anymore, and he didn't want to try. “What now then?”

Phichit hesitated, glancing past him when there was the sound of the others approaching. “Now you focus on yourself and Leo. We're not doing anything until Seung-gil returns. You have time.”

Guang-Hong looked back at Leo, supported between Chris and Viktor and somehow looking like someone being taken to their death. He sighed and refused to give in to the temptation to take Leo back inside and convince him this was a mistake. Instead, he followed as they lead the way to the shrine. It wasn’t far, but it was slow progress, and dusk settled before they reached it, the nightsong of the forest mingling with their footsteps.

When the giant tree came into view, the branches and leaves were lit up with a multitude of fireflies. He paused to take in the view, sure he wasn’t imagining the way it seemed to pulse with an ethereal glow. There was power and magic that he hadn’t noticed the last time. Then again, Yuri fainting had been rather distracting.

“Guang-Hong?”

He pulled his eyes away from the tree, looking to where the others had stopped near the edge of the water. Chris was looking back at him as Viktor helped Leo down towards the shrine. “Coming,” he said, closing the distance between them and looking down. There was a narrow set of steps leading to a narrower path along the water. Further in, something like a bench stretched across the pool of water in front of the shrine. Between that and the shrine itself was a single stepping stone.

Leo collapsed onto it, slumping against the wall of the tree-cave with a soft groan.

“You should have waited at least another day,” Viktor murmured. He pulled a strip of cloth from a hidden pocket, dipping it in the water before wiping it over Leo's face.

“‘M fine.”

Guang-Hong hesitated as he looked at the shrine. It had the same glow as the rest of the tree, only brighter. He glanced up as he felt Chris' hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to dissolve the bond, that's all you need to worry about. Place your hand on the shrine and make your intentions known.”

“That's it?” He eyed Chris when he shrugged and took a seat on the other end of the bench. With a sigh, he climbed over the bench and onto the stone, staring at the nine-tailed fox carving a moment before placing his hand over it.

The world tilted around him as the shrine seemed to pull at him, dragging him in. The sensation reminded him of Phichit bringing him here. He tried pulling his hand away, but it held, the fox shifting beneath his fingers and peeling away from the tree. It hovered in front of him, glowing bright enough he had to close his eyes against it.

_Guang-Hong._

He heard the voice without hearing it, as if it spoke into his mind. He cracked his eyes open, blinking at the silver fox sitting in the air in front of him. All around him was pitch black and his heart skipped a beat as he looked around, finding only darkness. “Where am I?”

 _At my shrine._ The fox tilted its head, tails twitching behind it. _Why have you come?_

Guang-Hong stared at the fox, wondering if this was really supposed to be Inari. A god. Gods didn’t exist.

_Gods exist. Just as I am the Keeper of the Forest, there are others looking over the Kingdoms._

That... was not possible. If the gods the kingdoms were named after still existed, surely there would be signs? Magic would still exist.

 _Magic never left, it was only forgotten._ The fox flicked its tails again. _But this is not what you have come to discuss._

“No,” he murmured, trying to focus on his reason for coming to the shrine. “I... The bond between me and Leo. Can you remove it?”

_Yes._

Guang-Hong pressed his lips together as he eyed the fox a moment. “Without harming either of us?”

_Yes._

There had to be a catch.

_Yes._

He bit his tongue against telling the fox to stay out of his head; pissing off a god was the last thing he needed right then. “What’s the catch then?”

The fox stared at him in silence for several heartbeats, only the faint, distant sound of water distracting him from the sound of his own breathing. _To break your bond will require all bonds to break._

That didn’t sound like a catch. If the bonds were all the same, they were all vile, twisted pieces of magic. Why would they have even been put in place to begin with?

In response to the unspoken question, images filled his mind and the void around them. His breath stuck in his lungs as knowledge poured into him.

Having sealed themselves off from the world for centuries, the kitsune’s powers and magic dimmed, the life force that sustained them faded. Children were the first to suffer, and then the females, until only a few remained. Desperate, they prayed to Inari, who granted males the ability to carry children, but even that wasn’t enough.

When the plague and the magical barrier that hid the forest from the kingdoms weakened and fell, it was the humans who ventured in and brought aid.

For a price.

The rulers of the kingdoms promised humans to sustain the kitsune race, and in return, the kitsune were to provide resources. Lumber, healing plants and salves, exotic nuts and fruits. For a time, the agreement held in place, until the kingdoms sent their prisoners - thieves, rapists, murderers - in the hopes of weakening the kitsune and taking the forest for themselves.

Two kitsune died before they realised what the humans had done. They turned to Inari once again and were offered a bond that would join human and kitsune as one. Once formed they would share the same fate, but only if a human agreed. One did; the first human to lie with a kitsune.

The humans became sacrifices, bound and enslaved to the kitsune who chose them. Those who had wanted the forest for themselves realised their plan had failed, and rather than risk the ire of Inari and growing agitation of their own gods, accepted defeat.

Generations passed, as did those who knew what truly lie inside the forest. Humans other than sacrifices were banned from entering the heart of the forest. Tradition became ritual and rumours gave way to myth.

Guang-Hong saw all that and more, as if he were watching the past several hundred years from Inari’s eyes, before the flood of information eased. He closed his eyes as the images faded, pressing his palms against them until he saw bursts of colors.

“The bonds should be broken,” he whispered. He had no doubt about that, but there had been those who thrived with it. Like Yuuri and Viktor. How would losing whatever bond they shared affect them, and their kits?

He glanced up when there was no answer. Could there be a bond without it twisting people against themselves? If he'd been given a chance to learn about the bond, had the chance and time to trust one of them enough, he may have agreed to it.

“Break the bond,” he said, “but allow the others to choose to form a new one. One that doesn't turn your mind against you, or allow control over each other.”

The fox tilted its head again, tails flaring out into a wide fan. _A mating bond?_

Guang-Hong hesitated. That sounded better than an enslaving bond at least. “Is a mating bond potentially dangerous?” He couldn't be certain, but he was sure he was being laughed at.

 _No more than a marriage is to humans._ The fox stood, drifting closer. _If I were to break it now, Leo would die. The bond heals as easily as it destroys. Stay with him tonight, and the bond will be broken by morning._ It stepped closer and leaned in, pressing its forehead to Guang-Hong’s.

He closed his eyes as warm tingles spread through him, and when he opened them again he was back in front of the shrine. He pulled his hand away from the fox with a slight frown, wondering if that had all been his imagination, but when he moved, he found his limbs were stiff and groaned.

When he turned, he found Viktor and Chris gone. Only Leo remained, stretched out on a bench and back propped against a large root, body slumped with sleep. A glance to the exit showed that dusk had deepened well into the night while he’d been standing there. He looked back to Leo, stepping closer and leaning over him. He wasn’t sure how, but he could see a strange glow around Leo, a rich forest green, interrupted in places by spots of black. Was this what his magic looked like?

He tilted his head, grimacing at how many black spots there were, finding more the longer he looked. The worst was over Leo’s chest, a gaping black hole with only the faintest spots of pale green in its depths. He reached out, brushing strands of hair from Leo’s face before resting his hand on Leo’s chest.

Leo stirred at the touch, eyes slitting open and settling on him. “Finished?” he murmured, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

Guang-Hong hesitated, shaking his head before leaning down. He followed the fox’s example, ignoring Leo’s widening eyes as he pressed their foreheads together. He felt the slow rush of something between them, like water pouring from a full basin into an empty one. Vertigo swept over him and he pulled back with a sharp breath, closing his eyes to regain his balance. The touch of fingers to his forehead had him opening them again.

“Thank you,” Leo murmured, his thumb brushing over the center of Guang-Hong’s forehead before trailing along the top of his nose. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile as he pulled his hand away and sat up.

Guang-Hong stood and stepped aside. “Should I find someone to help? Where’d they go?”

Leo shook his head before carefully getting to his feet. “I think I can manage. They left to spread the word of your decision,” he said, heading for the stairs.

“My decision?”

“To break the bonds.”

He didn’t miss that Leo said bonds rather than bond. They knew already what breaking it meant? “Did you hear everything?”

Leo stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to wait for him. “Not everything. We all share a connection to Inari; we knew the moment your request would succeed where ours failed.”

“Because I’m human,” he murmured, stopping beside Leo.

Leo only nodded and continued back to the village.

He didn’t know what else to say so he said nothing, letting the silence fall between them. He was too tired to think and he was just relieved to have one problem taken care of; the rest could wait until morning.

When Leo swayed, he instinctively moved to put an arm around him; he wasn’t nearly as heavy when he could at least support most of his own weight. The warmth against his side was more comforting than he liked, but he didn’t pull away.

The flames that had burned like sunlight along the walls before were starlight when they returned to Leo’s home.

Leo moved past the blankets on the floor, continuing instead into the hall and to his bedroom.

Guang-Hong stopped a few steps inside, eyeing the vines and the way they seemed to glow. The magic around them looked the same as the one around Leo, rich green without the spots of black. He was fairly certain they were moving.

“What?”

He shrugged, letting his arm drop from Leo’s waist. “I’ll sleep out there,” he murmured, trying to ignore the ache in his gut at the look on Leo’s face. He managed a step back before the fox’s words came back to him - _stay with him tonight._ Did that mean sleeping with him? A glance to Leo’s chest showed the black void in his magic had shrunk considerably. “Unless you... need me?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Leo stepped away with a shrug, though Guang-Hong could sense something like longing from him. “Your presence would help me heal,” he said slowly, pulling out a clean yukata before turning back to the door. “But I should be fine if you’d rather stay away. I just need to clean up and rest.”

Guang-Hong hesitated, noting the slight hitch in Leo’s step and wondering if he could bathe on his own. “Do you need help?”

Leo shook his head without looking at him. “I’ll manage.”

He sighed softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Leo’s arm before he could pass. He was sure Leo was trying to push him away again, or at least putting distance between them, and that was the last thing they needed when he was still recovering. “I’ll help.” He removed his hand when Leo nodded, following him down the hall.

When Leo set the clean clothes aside before stripping, Guang-Hong looked away as warmth crept up his neck. He waited until Leo settled on a stool by the waterfall before moving closer, taking one glance at Leo to find he looked like he was about to pass out now that he’d sat down. He snorted quietly, finding the soap and setting to work. It wasn’t as awkward as he thought it’d be. It was almost soothing, and it was nice to know Leo trusted him this much at least, though he had to wonder how much was due to his utter fatigue and being close to death.

He found a small bucket and filled it with the heated water of the pool when he was done, pouring it over Leo to rinse him. “Stay awake,” he murmured when Leo started listing, grabbing a towel and drying him off before retrieving his yukata. He barely managed to get it closed before Leo was leaning on him heavily enough he doubted their ability to make it back to the bedroom. “Leo...” With a soft grunt, he half-guided, half-carried Leo back down the hall, managing to reach the bed before his strength gave out.

He expected Leo to hit the bed in a boneless heap, but the vines moved, wrapping around Leo’s body and gently lowering him to the blankets. He couldn’t do more than stare as they settled in loose coils around Leo’s arms and torso before their glowing intensified. When one stretched out towards him, he took an instinctive step back, eyeing it when all it did was hover in front of him. Like it was... beckoning him forward. “Are you going to kill me?” he muttered under his breath.

The vine jerked back like it was... appalled at the question.

Guang-Hong eyed it, glancing back to Leo before deciding they were his vines so it wasn’t like they’d kill their owner. “I’m just going to sleep out there...” And _why_ was he talking to some vines like they could hear him? He took a step back, tensing as the vine reached out again, lowering down so it was level with his hand. He held still as it slowly moved closer, shivering at the wash of warm magic when it touched him.

They were... sharing power? He glanced down as the vine curled around his wrist, following as it tugged him onto the bed. “Fine,” he muttered, stretching out with a soft sigh and trying to make sure he wasn’t touching Leo too much, but once he was settled, the vines curled around his limbs like they had Leo and he found his arm pulled over Leo’s stomach. The only comfortable spot for his head was Leo’s chest and he let out a sigh, cursing the vines under his breath until he felt the way magic moved around them, ebbing and flowing through them and the vines.

As he watched, the smaller spots of black seemed to slowly fade, filled in with pale green which eventually darkened. Leo’s body relaxed, his heartbeat slowing and growing stronger. Guang-Hong found himself doing the same, eyes drifting shut to the steady rhythm beneath his ear.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not... quite dead... Comments always appreciated <3

Waking was a slow process. His limbs were heavy and stiff from long hours of sleep, and he was wrapped in warmth. In the back of his mind, he knew waking meant dealing with bigger problems, and he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. He pressed his face into his pillow, only realising when it moved that it wasn’t a pillow. As he gave up on sleep, he felt fingers cradling the back of his head and steady, even breaths in his hair. He cracked his eyes open to find his face mashed into Leo’s shoulder. 

He kept still, not daring to move. Not  _ wanting  _ to move. He was sure that was because of the bond, but as he woke further he realised there was no pull, no draw towards Leo, no driving need to stay close. There was only the comfortable quiet and sensation of being held. His eyes slipped closed again as he let out a soft sigh. “It’s gone,” he whispered.

Leo’s fingers curled tighter in his hair. “Yeah.”

“...Do you regret it?”

“No.” Leo shifted back though kept his fingers where they were. “Do you?”

Guang-Hong shook his head, tipping his head back to glance up at Leo. He looked better; the glow around him was pale, but the black had vanished. “Now what?” he asked, blinking as Leo tipped his head in to press their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, shivering at the shift of magic between them. It was gentler this time, less a rush from a full container into an empty one and more of a balancing. 

Leo didn't answer and he didn't press for one. Whatever was happening with the forest and the kingdoms could wait a bit longer. Phichit had said to take care of themselves. For the moment, that meant drawing out this peace between them as long as possible. 

When Leo pulled away minutes later, he opened his eyes again, rolling onto his back with a yawn. He blinked up at the vines, pushing up on his elbows and glancing down at the ones still wrapped around them. They were browned and dry. “Are they dead?” he asked, carefully unwrapping the ones around his wrists. 

“No.” Leo shifted beside him and then the vines were withdrawing, tucking up along the ceiling. “But it will take a week or two for them to recover.” 

Guang-Hong looked over at Leo. “And you?” 

Leo shrugged, running fingers through his hair. “I'll be fine in a couple days, thanks to you,” he said, meeting Guang-Hong’s eyes briefly before sitting up. 

He hesitated before reaching out, touching Leo’s wrist before he could get up. There were a dozen questions he wanted to ask though couldn’t find the way to voice them. He wasn’t sure he even had the right to ask; what if it only destroyed what little ground they’d gained? “I still mean what I said before. The magical binding might be gone, but that doesn’t mean...” 

Leo glanced back at him, something close to a smile tugging at his lips before he stood and started to change.

Guang-Hong stifled a sigh, getting to his feet and trying to ignore how awkward it was to crawl out of someone else’s bed. He doubted Leo believed him, but that was okay. He wasn’t leaving again, not unless they kicked him out. He’d have time to convince the stubborn ass. 

He slipped out of the room and headed down the hall, pausing as he reached the main room and found a large tray of food waiting for them, a low fire warming the room. He glanced back as Leo joined him. “Think they’re trying to keep us in here?” 

Leo glanced at the food with a soft snort. “Probably.” He hesitated a moment near the tray before sinking down onto a cushion with a twitch of his ears.

Guang-Hong settled across from him, eyeing him a moment before reaching for one of the plates. The familiar awkward silence fell between them and he had to wonder if Leo was going to shut him out again now that the bond was gone. It hurt, but he thought he understood on some level. He couldn’t stand the silence though, not when it was so different from just a few minutes ago. He poked at his food as he searched for something, anything, to say to break it.

“I killed my father,” he said, because it was the only thing he could think of, and the knowledge had been weighing heavier and heavier at the back of his mind. He could feel Leo’s eyes on him, felt the shift in the silence, so he continued. “We never really got along. Even when I was young... I don't think we ever said more than a few words to each other any given day.” 

He dropped his hands to his lap and curled his fingers into fists, staring at the food without seeing it, the words tumbling from his lips as he told Leo everything, because he had to tell someone. Who better than someone who already might never want to speak to him again? 

He was beginning to see a pattern. Why would anyone want to even be near him when his hands were soaked in blood? The overwhelming sense of self-loathing was so similar to the feelings that had driven him to the balcony he wondered if the bond had held on in some way. 

The warm press of fingers on his wrist drew a startled gasp from him. 

Leo didn't say anything as he settled next to Guang-Hong; he didn't have to. It was enough to know he was listening. 

Guang-Hong took a breath and continued. 

There'd been discontent as he got older. The quiet kind that simmered on both sides, that drove him to avoid home, to lose himself more and more in books and music. To slip into his father's study in the middle of the night to find what was so much more important to his father than his own son. 

He told Leo how when he'd been caught, his father's answer had been to train him. First with weapons, and then how to kill, quickly and silently. How his father had fed him lie after lie, painting him as a vigilante of justice instead of the murderer he truly was. How his father had suspected him of betrayal and tried to kill him. How he'd reacted on instinct and drove the sword through his father's chest instead. How hot and thick the blood had been on his fingers. 

How he'd tried to jump from the balcony because his world was crumbling around him and there was no place for him anymore. Because he had innocent blood on his hands, and who could possibly stand to be near someone when their own father despised them? 

He shivered as he found himself leaning into Leo's side, Leo's hand resting on his shoulder. His cheeks were wet with tears he didn't remember shedding. He fell silent, pressing closer and clutching at Leo's yukata. Even if it was shallow comfort and wouldn't last, he'd take what he could get. 

The crackle of burning wood took the place of his voice. He watched the flames and focused on his breathing, matching it to the steady rhythm of Leo's. 

“I broke my arm when I was a kit.”

Guang-Hong stirred at the quiet murmur of Leo's voice, ignoring the flutter in his chest at Leo offering any information about himself. 

“My mother was furious; said I shouldn't have been climbing trees. She didn't believe me when I said I only fell because of the hornet’s nest.” He trailed off, his fingers flexing against Guang-Hong’s shoulder. Fidgeting. 

“When I moved to this village, it was because of Phichit. He had this dream of dissolving the myths surrounding us. I wanted to know more about the kingdoms and humans my mother never spoke of. And then I got my chance.

She was beautiful. Easy to talk to. And she could sing. I thought she was the one, could feel the potential bonds, but it didn't even last a year. She'd been promised to the son of a rich family and some part of her couldn't let that go.”

Guang-Hong glanced up when Leo didn't continue, moving his hand to rest on Leo's knee. 

Leo's fingers curled against Guang-Hong’s shoulder. “She left. And I accepted that, but... I didn't realise the bonds had started to form. Not until it was too late.”

Guang-Hong’s breath caught in his throat. He didn't want to hear the rest of this story, but he had to. 

“For days I thought it was just my own response. It wasn't until...” Leo's breathing stuttered, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I felt her die. I felt her dying and I couldn't do anything to stop it.”

Guang-Hong shifted to his knees, leaning in to wrap his arms around Leo's trembling shoulders. He let himself be pulled into Leo's lap, sliding a hand into his hair, rubbing against the base of his ears. “Wasn't your fault,” he murmured. It was the tainted magic borne from the humans’ treachery. And that magic was gone. No one else would have to experience something like that again, though it was a small comfort now. 

He curled his fingers tighter in Leo’s hair, his other hand settling against the back of Leo’s neck. 

“And then you came. I didn’t even have to talk to you to know how strong the bonds could be. I thought if I could make you leave...”

Guang-Hong smiled faintly. “You wouldn’t have to go through it again.” He slid his hand up along an ear, rubbing the tip between his fingers. He tilted his head, curling his fingers in Leo’s hair again as he remembered the way Chris had confronted Leo in the chicken coop. “The others don’t know, do they?” 

Leo shook his head. “No. I never told them.”

He let out a soft sigh, tugging gently at Leo’s hair. “Leo...” 

“Shut it,” Leo grumbled, pulling back enough to slant a look at him. 

Guang-Hong raised an eyebrow, tugging at a furry ear while he could still get away with it. “Fine. Don’t tell them.” He leaned back though made no effort to get out of Leo's lap despite how quickly it could become awkward. “I don't want to leave, you know.” He hadn't wanted to leave to begin with, but leaving had seemed less painful than staying where he wasn't wanted. 

Leo flushed, ears twitching as he ducked his head. His fingers flexed against Guang-Hong’s knees as he took a breath. “I don't want you to leave either.” His voice was quiet as he glanced up through mussed hair.

Guang-Hong hardly noticed, too focused on the hesitant smile on Leo's face. It was like finding a hidden treasure of the kingdoms. He traced a fingertip over the curve of Leo's lips, trying to ignore the strange flutter in his stomach at the wash of warm breath against it. 

Leo's hands inched up to settle at his hips and he found himself leaning in again, unable to bring himself to actually  _ kiss  _ Leo and pressing their foreheads together instead. 

“So you'll stop being a jerk?” he asked, trying for playful though it came out as more of a soft plea. 

Leo tilted his head enough to bump their noses together. “I'll try.” 

Guang-Hong shivered as Leo shifted further, nosing against his cheek, their lips hovering near each other with only his finger separating them. He held still as Leo’s hand moved to his hair, closing his eyes and pressing closer. Leo’s breath tickled his cheek and he stifled a soft sound in the back of his throat as anticipation coiled tight in his stomach. He swallowed and let his finger slide away from Leo’s lips, settling against his jaw as their breaths mingled.

Leo bumped their noses again before slowly moving to his lips, the gentle touch igniting a warmth that spread through Guang-Hong’s entire body. 

A soft whimpering sound escaped him when Leo’s fingers curled tighter in his hair, tongue flicking hesitantly against his lips. He sucked in a breath before granting it entrance, shivering at the slick sensation as their tongues met. 

Leo growled, low in his throat, flexing his hand on Guang-Hong’s hip to draw him closer. 

He let out another whimper, rocking his hips before breaking the kiss with a gasp as the heat intensified, threatening to consume him. When he opened his eyes, Leo was staring at him, tawny ears twitching wildly. A flush crept up his neck, aware of how close they were with him straddling Leo, and Leo's definite interest between them. “Is this... some remnant of the bond?”

Leo licked his lips, nosing against Guang-Hong’s neck. “I don't think so.” He took a slow, deep breath, like he was scenting him, before pulling back. “Hungry?”

Guang-Hong blinked, almost disappointed that was the end of it, but then, maybe it was the beginning. “Starving,” he said, kissing the tip of Leo's nose before sliding off him. He dragged the tray of food closer, biting into a piece of toast as he leaned into Leo's side. “Do you need more healing?” He glanced up when Leo didn't answer immediately. 

Leo sighed and shook his head. “I'm not fully healed, but your energy would be as depleted as mine if you shared anymore. I can draw more from the forest later. I'll be fine.” 

He wasn't sure he believed that considering the state Leo's magic had been in, but it wasn't like he really understood how it worked anyway. “I should talk to Phichit. Whatever my father was involved in...” It wasn't over, and he had to make sure he did what he could to make it right. 

“Wasn't your fault.”

He snorted quietly at having his words repeated back to him. “Still have to try to fix it. I'm not going to let them tear apart your home.” His flush returned as Leo kissed his temple, ducking his head even as he leaned into it. “Are you always affectionate when you're not trying to be a jerk?” He yelped as Leo bit his ear in response.

“Are you always a brat when you're not trying to seduce someone?”

Guang-Hong pouted. “I never tried to seduce you.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Not even when it was raining?” 

His flush deepened and he reached for a piece of bacon. “If anything you were trying to seduce me,” he said, shoving it in Leo's mouth before he could respond. “Now shut up and eat your breakfast.” 

Leo smirked and nipped Guang-Hong’s finger. 

They made quick work of the food and then lingered, until Leo sighed and pushed to his feet. “We should see if we're needed.”

“I guess.” He didn't want to, but he let Leo pull him up, keeping hold of his hand as they stepped outside. He expected bright morning sunlight and blinked as moonlight greeted them instead. Apparently they had slept through an entire day. 

Only a few of the others were gathered in the usual area and even from a distance it was apparent something was wrong. As they moved closer, he could hear Phichit and Chris arguing, though he couldn't make out the words. Viktor looked pale where he sat at the table, one hand gripping the edge as if it were the only thing supporting him. 

Viktor straightened when he saw them, forcing a smile that looked strained. “Oh good, you can walk.”

Guang-Hong looked between him and the other two as Phichit pulled away from Chris with a snarl. “What happened?”

Phichit turned his attention to them and Guang-Hong saw he was as pale as Viktor and looked like he hadn't slept. “Seung-gil hasn't come back,” he said, voice tight. 

“What does that mean?” He glanced to Leo when he pulled away and moved to join Viktor at the table. It was strange not to see Yuuri here, but he was probably busy with the kits. 

“It means he was likely caught. Or worse,” Chris answered, returning the glare Phichit gave him with one of his own. “You’re in no condition to go after him either.” 

Phichit’s expression darkened and his knuckles turned white where they clenched around his staff. “I’m not abandoning him.” 

“He knew the risks. If you have any intention of protecting this forest, your powers are needed here.” 

Guang-Hong blinked and took a step back as tiny sparks of black light started forming around the staff. “Where did he go?” he asked, staring back at Phichit when he turned his glare from Chris to him; the anger and what little fear and awe he’d harboured towards Phichit and his magic were gone.

Phichit let out a harsh sigh, the sparks fading as he took a deep breath. “To get near Popovich and find who’s involved with him.”

Guang-Hong stared at Phichit, relief and dread warring for dominance. “He's always guarded.” He'd only met the man once, when his father had taken him to a gathering of the high society in the kingdom. Even then, he'd wondered when he would be sent after the man in the dead of night; only someone so morally compromised would keep four guards on hand at all times. 

“I know. But we're running out of time. If we don't stop them soon...”

Phichit didn't need to finish. He saw what would happen in the same way he'd seen the kitsune’s past. The humans would take control of the forest, cutting trees, draining the streams and rivers, depleting all the resources within a matter of years. The kitsune would be enslaved, lauded as exotic pets or sex slaves. 

The forest and the magic within would cease to be. And then the kingdoms would follow, when what little magic that still sustained them was no longer replenished by the forest. 

Guang-Hong caught himself on the end of table as the visions faded, leaving him dizzy. He heard his name being called as if from far away, though he wasn't able to focus on where he was until Leo caught his arm, guiding him to sit. 

“You okay?”

He glanced up at Leo, reaching for the hand on his arm and letting out a slow breath. “We have to stop them.” He looked to Phichit, frowning at the swell of power inside him, like the magic Inari had given him was being replenished. He removed his hand from Leo's arm, reaching for Phichit’s instead.

“What-” Phichit’s words cut off with a gasp as the magic flowed into him from Guang-Hong as it had with Leo. 

Instead of leaving him feeling empty, the magic seemed inexhaustible. Even after Phichit’s was fully restored, the power still swelled inside him, so he turned his attention back to Leo. He slid his fingers into Leo's hair, pressing their foreheads together with a faint smile as the magic restored Leo’s as well, relieved when he saw the grimace of pain around Leo's eyes finally fade. 

He pressed his lips to Leo's forehead before taking a breath. Somehow, he knew he had to be the one to cut the head off the snake. 

Something his mother used to say came back to him...  _ The blood of guardians still sings with magic.  _ Maybe... he was one of those guardians. Maybe that was how his father had gotten involved with this mess in the first place, before he’d betrayed everyone. 

“I'll stop him,” he said, looking back to Phichit. “And I'll bring Seung-gil back if I can.”

“Guang-Hong-” Leo tightened his grip on Guang-Hong’s arm. “What are you planning?”

“I told you I wouldn't let them destroy your home. I can stop him. Promise.” He tugged at Leo's fingers, welcoming the calm that settled over him. “Protect the forest with Phichit and the others.” 

Leo growled, gripping Guang-Hong’s hand when he stood. “You can't go alone.”

“I'm not alone.” He was starting to feel a presence in the magic and somehow he knew it was Inari. He smiled and leaned in to press a light kiss to Leo's lips. “I'll be fine.” With that, he pulled away and stepped back, bright golden light swirling around him before Leo could try to stop him. He wasn't sure how to control the magic and he didn't try to, trusting it would take him where he needed to be. 

There was a familiar lurching sensation in his gut, the feeling of falling, and then he was standing outside a large house lit only by clouded moonlight. 

He took a deep breath and stepped towards it. He had no sword or weapon on him, but it didn't matter. 

Popovich wouldn't stand a chance against an assassin aided by a god wanting vengeance for his people. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally felt inspired to work on this. Enjoy almost 6k of terrible pacing and lots of twists ;3

Shadows clung to him as he made his way across the estate. There were a handful of guards on watch, but he avoided them easily, anticipation coiling at the base of his spine. It was far easier to slip by undetected with the aid of magic; he could feel the weight of it around his limbs like a heavy cloak, muffling his presence.

The back door was unlocked and opened without a sound. Inside was dark and empty, and his anticipation shifted towards unease. Was Popovich truly so confident in his men he'd only keep them outside? He closed the door and glanced to the stairs; there was a faint light coming from a room up there.

There was no need to wait for his eyes to adjust; thanks to Inari’s presence he could see as well as if it were daylight. As his silent footsteps carried him up the stairs, he felt Inari shift; somehow it felt like the deity was pressing closer inside his mind. His senses shifted with it, sharpening, catching the whistle of the breeze through an open window from further inside the house, the heavy footfalls of a guard walking beneath it, the scent of something like incense accompanying the scritch of a pen on paper, both of which grew stronger as he neared the lit room.

A glance inside showed Popovich at his desk, writing. There was a low murmur of a voice and he glanced up, looking annoyed. “Not long.”

Guang-Hong frowned, stepping closer and squeezing his eyes shut with a silent curse when the floor creaked. He counted four too-fast heartbeats before Popovich spoke again.

“Whoever’s there, come in.”

 _Shit._ He took a deep breath, pushing away from the wall and stepping inside, narrowing his eyes at Popovich. The man was reclining behind his desk, pen hovering above a stack of papers as he looked at Guang-Hong, recognition slowly settling on his face.

“Ji’s son. I heard you killed your father. Not surprised, he was weak.” Popovich scoffed, turning back to his papers as if dismissing Guang-Hong completely.

He took a few more steps inside, staring at the man before taking in the rest of the room. When his eyes landed on Seung-gil, sprawled on the sofa, he froze, frowning in confusion. If Seung-gil was here... why was Popovich still alive?

Seung-gil tilted his head, eyeing Guang-Hong from his seat on the sofa. “I was expecting Phichit...”

Guang-Hong stepped closer, forgetting about Popovich entirely as he focused on Seung-gil. “They’re waiting for you...”

“Ah. Chris must have gotten hold of him,” Seung-gil muttered, glancing to Popovich as he pushed to his feet. “Looks like your plan fell to pieces, like I said it would.”

Popovich waved a hand, pushing to his own feet. “It doesn’t matter, just kill him.”

“Seung-gil - what?” He looked between the two, unable to bring himself to believe that Seung-gil was working against Phichit, against the kitsune. There was no way he was working with Popovich... He took a step back as Seung-gil moved towards him, pulling a small dagger from his arm sheath. He looked for something he could use to defend himself and paused again when he spotted his sword and his father’s ledger near the sofa Seung-gil had vacated. The last time he’d seen it, it was covered in blood; had he not had it when Ren had taken him away? Was someone in the police working with Popovich? That would mean... Ren was in danger, too?

He stumbled back as Seung-gil swiped at him, gritting his teeth as it sank in that Seung-gil had really betrayed them. He glanced to Popovich as he moved to the door, but when he tried to go after him, Seung-gil was between them and the man was making his escape. “What are you doing? What about Phichit?”

Seung-gil scoffed. “That idiot? Loyal to a fault and too concerned with doing good to see what’s right in front of his staff.” He snickered, twirling his dagger as he circled Guang-Hong, backing him further into the room. “I’d been trying to get into the forest for years, and along comes a haughty mage intent on breaking the curse? How was I supposed to pass that up?”

Guang-Hong continued backing away, edging towards the sofa and his sword. “I broke the curse.”

“And thanks for that, the forest will be that much easier to take with half the kitsune still reeling from that backlash, but I don’t give a fuck about the curse.” Seung-gil continued stalking closer, turning his blade between his fingers. “I’m only after Inari’s heart.” He tilted his head with a feral smile, and for the first time Guang-Hong suspected he wasn’t actually human. “Thanks so much for bringing it to me.”

Only Guang-Hong’s training and enhanced senses allowed him to avoid Seung-gil’s next attack, throwing himself aside as Seung-gil lunged, dagger sinking through empty space where his heart had been. He crashed into a chair, grabbing hold and swinging it around, catching Seung-gil’s shoulder. He turned and scrambled for the sword, screaming in pain as a blade sank into the back of his thigh. He hit the ground hard, instinctively fighting against Inari trying to take full control.

He didn’t dare try to look back or reach to remove the blade. His sword was just out of reach, the gold in the scabbard where Emil had repaired it glittering in the low light. Taunting.

“To think a pathetic assassin like you would be the one to claim it. You don’t even know your own heritage.”

Guang-hong risked a glance back as he pushed onto his good leg, spotting another small dagger in Seung-gil’s hand. “Why do you want it so badly?” he asked, desperately hoping Seung-gil would relent his attacks enough to answer, pressing a hand to his leg and grimacing as his fingers found only damp, sticky warmth.

Seung-gil sneered, kicking the chair out of his way as he continued stalking forward. “The gods have slumbered long enough. It’s time they restore their magic to the kingdoms.”

He felt a surge of anger that wasn’t his own, tingles racing down his arm and building in a force in his fingers. When he glanced down, it was to see a ball of crackling green growing in his palm before his arm threw it at Seung-gil of its own accord. He didn’t wait to see if it hit, turning and lunging for his sword. It clattered to the floor and he landed hard on his knees as he grabbed it, the blade singing as he tore it free of the scabbard. The metal glowed a brilliant, blinding gold and he felt a rush of power that filled the room, distantly aware of Seung-gil yelling something before his body moved, and the yelling turned to screaming, a faint sound like shattering glass beneath it.

As quickly as it came, the power and glow faded, and he was left standing alone in a too-quiet room, the acrid stench of burned flesh slowly clearing from the gentle breeze through the broken window.

If not for the pain in his leg, he may have tried to sit and pass out, but the slightest shift sent lances of agony through his entire thigh. And that... was a lot of blood. Gritting his teeth, he sheathed his sword and almost instinctively grabbed the ledger before hobbling towards the stairs. By the time he reached the door, he could hear shouting outside, before the front door burst open and a group of policeman flooded in. Shit. Just his luck.

He slipped back into the shadows near a statue as they spread out downstairs, tensing as one headed up the stairs, pistol drawn. He pressed tighter against the large statue, closing his eyes as he fought against the pain, trying to think of a way out, but it was no use. He heard the footsteps stop in front of him and let out a breath, prepared to accept his fate.

“Guang-Hong?”

His eyes opened at the familiar voice, sagging back against the banister with a breathless laugh of relief. “Ren,” he whispered, grimacing as the adrenaline vanished with disturbing quickness, his sword and ledger clattering to the floor a moment before he followed the same path. “My leg...”

Ren cursed, reaching for him and dragging him back to his feet.

Guang-Hong grunted as he slumped into Ren, blacking out from the pain and a bone deep exhaustion. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes; when he came to, he was on his stomach on the sofa and Ren was tying something tight around his leg.

“This will hurt.” That was the only warning he got before Ren pulled the dagger free.

He sank teeth into the expensive pillow under his face to muffle his scream, his body going taught as the burning sting of alcohol on an open wound followed.

“Not as deep as it looks,” Ren murmured, pressing something against the wound before tying it in place. “Need to get you to a medic.”

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice slurred as he struggled against blacking out again. He couldn’t have lost too much blood, surely. He had to get back to the others. “The forest...” If Seung-gil was right, they were in more danger than they realized.

“I know. We learned what their real plans were this morning. We notified the other kingdoms, but... I don’t think they have enough time to do anything to stop it.”

“No,” he whispered, curling his hands into fists. He tensed as a vision of the forest came to him: consumed by flames, kitsune and human alike fighting through thick clouds of smoke.

 _No!_ He closed his eyes against the images, but it only made them brighter. Clearer. _Inari, please..._ He hadn’t come all this way only to lose what really mattered. Hadn’t nearly died, hadn’t nearly lost Leo twice, just to lose it all now. Just to break the promise he’d made. There had to still be a way. Surely Inari or... magic wouldn’t have urged him here to cut the head off the snake only for its venom to destroy the forest. “Please,” he whispered.

“Guang-Hong?”

He choked back a sob and lifted his head to look at Ren, wariness seeping back into him when he found the other man staring.

“You’re glowing.”

“What?” He looked down at his hands, staring at the tendrils of bright gold and rich green. The presence that had been pushing against his own solidified further.

_Trust me._

He flinched at the sharp echo of a powerful voice inside his head, but he recognised it as the same he’d spoken to at the shrine. **_You can save them?_ **

_Perhaps, but there’s not much time. Stop fighting me._

Guang-Hong squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, gasping as Inari’s presence washed over him, pushing him to the back of his own mind. The pain vanished almost completely, turning to a peripheral ache as he sat up.

“Guang-Hong?”

He looked to Ren, his hand reaching out, pressing two fingers to his forehead. There was a flash of pale gold light and Ren collapsed to the floor.

_REN!_

“He’s fine.” He stood, and with another pulse of magic the pain in his leg dulled further as it healed, not much, but enough to staunch the flow of blood.

_What did you do to him?_

“Put him to sleep. And took a bit of his power. He’ll wake with a headache, but nothing more.” He stepped out of the room, pausing at the sound of police still moving about, along with the snarling and cursing of Popovich. Good. That took care of that at least. He turned back to the room, moving to the shattered window and stepping out, vaguely aware of panic gripping his chest before he realised he was slowly drifting to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. And then he... they? were moving, far quicker than should have been possible, injured leg or not.

There was a sense of something ghosting through his mind, like deft fingers rifling through filed papers, and various images and memories flickered before they settled on a pond. The one behind the library he’d spent his afternoons beside when younger, reading beneath the trees. A few minutes later, they were standing on the edge of the water, the moon glimmering off the breeze-rippled surface.

They stepped into the cool waters, wading out to the center, until the water was waist high. They closed their eyes, taking a deep breath as they lifted their arms, tipped their head back, and fell.

Water rushed over them and they opened their eyes, watching the distorted image of the moon as the pond began to glow. It was the same bright gold and rich green Guang-Hong was starting to associate with kitsune magic. It wasn’t unlike the pond in the forest glowing during the solstice, or the forest lighting up with magic from the meteors. There was a source of power in it, and belatedly, he realised it was Inari’s lifeforce fueling it, channeling the desperate plea he could feel winding through every strand of the magic.

 _Inari!_ He couldn’t do this. He was the kitsune god. He couldn’t just cease to be when he was the only protection the forest had.

**_They have you._ **

_I’m not enough. They’re dying, you can’t just abandon them!_

He felt Inari smile as they broke the surface of the water, sucking in a deep breath. The glow intensified and Guang-Hong let out a silent scream as he felt the magic inside him begin to weaken as it pulsed out from the pond, covering the land and trees beyond it briefly in a flash of gold as it spread. “I’m not abandoning them, you’ll see.” Inari’s words were hardly above a whisper as they closed their eyes again.

They floated there for what seemed like ages, until Guang-Hong started to become aware that his body was his own again. He breathed deep and opened his eyes, half-swimming, half-crawling back to the bank. He collapsed onto the dry land at the same time he felt a tremor in the earth, not unlike the kind that followed the explosions when the railroad was being built. There was a tingle of magic beneath it and he struggled to his feet, cursing as his strength gave out, exhaustion creeping over him.

As he closed his eyes, he heard a whisper so faint he was sure it was his imagination. _A gift... to ensure the kitsune race survives._

***

His dreams were chaotic, filled with fire and smoke and blood, the screams of human and kitsune alike echoing in his ears. Interspersed with them were images of gold-touched eyes and brown hair, a quiet laugh, hesitant touches, rain in the leaves, a night sky filled with shooting stars, dancing to the soft, mournful melody of a flute beneath moonlight. And through it all, the gradual blossom of power deep inside him. Was that his magic, or Inari’s?

He saw himself, walking barefoot through the forest, magic of the trees and flowers flowing through him, intertwining with his body. He felt the slow, timeless thoughts of the earth beneath his feet, the playful tug of the breeze in his hair, the mischievous gossiping of the underground brook before it was swallowed into the peaceful quiet of the ageless water of the tree spring.

The forest would thrive. And beyond it... the magic of the old gods would seep back into the kingdoms, awakened from their slumber with the dying breath of their brother.

***

 

He slept for two days, according to the medic. His leg still hurt like a bitch, but it had partly healed in that time, thanks in part to the magical energy that flooded the kingdoms two nights prior, though there was a magic he could feel deep inside him as well. Weak, but powerful, and wholly separate from the faint glimmer of Inari’s presence he refused to believe was gone.

His mother visited while he was still being held, the medics insisting on keeping him another day when simply standing nearly had him comatose again. She seemed... free, and smiled for the first time he could really remember, though they both refused to broach the subject of his father. He’d said all he could manage to Leo, though maybe one day... if he was ever able to find just what his father had been, or why he’d turned... Seung-gil’s words about his heritage kept coming back to him. His mother knew nothing, but promised to look through his father’s things.  

Ren found him as he was being discharged, raising an eyebrow at the cane he’d been given, though thankfully didn’t comment on it. “So... I suppose I owe you a thank you,” he said, handing over Guang-Hong’s sword.

Guang-Hong took it with a sigh of relief, hardly caring the ledger wasn’t returned as well; Ren would put it to better use than he could. “Thank you for what?”

Ren smiled faintly, glancing out at the late morning hustle and bustle of the city. “We got Popovich thanks to you. He’s already told us who he’s been working with, and his son is fully cooperating with us in finding what evidence he may have. Most are already in custody... And whatever you did after knocking me out... It saved the forest, and the kingdoms, I’m sure.”

He winced at the reminder of what Inari had done to Ren. “Sorry, that... wasn’t me,” he murmured, sighing and hoping he didn’t have to try to explain it. Thankfully, Ren didn’t seem to need an explanation.

Ren nodded, turning and motioning him to follow. “You’re going back to the forest?”

“Yes.” There was no question on that. He just hoped the others didn’t think he was dead, and that everyone was unharmed. He wasn’t sure how bad the fires had been, or how far they’d spread, or if anyone had had to fight... His chest felt tight just remembering the visions, telling himself if Leo had been hurt, surely he would have known. He would have felt it, even without the stupid bond... Right?

He glanced up as he felt Ren’s hand on his shoulder, stepping closer and leaning into him as he sucked in deep breaths to calm himself. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I hope you didn’t nearly lose your job or anything because of me.”

Ren chuckled, mussing his hair as he pulled back. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to have a grandfather who’s the chief.”

Guang-Hong laughed. “Does that mean you’ll take over one day?”

“Maybe,” Ren said with a shrug, motioning to a carriage as it pulled up beside them. He stepped past Guang-Hong and pulled the door open. “Ready to go home?”

Home. That sounded good. Guang-Hong half-limped to it, reaching in to set his sword and cane inside. “Trying to get me out of the city in a hurry?” he asked dryly.

“Well, things are certainly more chaotic when you’re around. And so far I’m the only one who knows where you were the other night. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Guang-Hong smiled, reaching out to hug Ren again. “Thanks,” he murmured, pulling away and climbing into the carriage with a stifled moan and silent curse to his leg.

Ren winked at him before closing the door, and then he was off, his stomach in knots as he watched the city pass and fade away outside the window, slowly giving way to the empty hillsides and then the trees and thicker foliage of the forest. He hardly noticed the hours passing, dozing off and on and grumbling as the heat and humidity of the forest seeped through the carriage, making his head and lower back itch.

When the carriage finally stopped, it was in the same spot he’d been dropped off when he’d first arrived. He grimaced at the realisation he’d have to make that same trek again, this time while injured. He picked up his sword and cane and climbed out with a thanks to the driver, taking a breath before starting along the path. Thankfully the pain had eased somewhat and he suspected it was due to the magic of the forest replenishing whatever magic had awakened inside him.

His steps quickened when he spotted the cave, stopping just long enough to drink from the spring before continuing on. He braced himself for the worst, to see the village and houses burned, the sky filled with smoke, and his chest seized when he did smell smoke. Plumes of it rose in the distance behind the village, but the houses and the forest around them appeared untouched.

He forced air into his aching lungs, searching for any sign of the others, of Leo, but he was still far enough away he couldn’t even see the pond. By the time he reached it, there was no mistaking it was empty. There was no movement aside from the livestock that remained, the light breeze rustling the leaves, the lazy drone of insects in the late afternoon. It wasn’t until he stopped and stood in the center of the village he realised how famished he was despite his worry. He made his way to the dining area, finding leftovers that looked fresh to sate his hunger. He forced himself to remain calm as he sat and ate.

There was no sign of fighting, no sign that the fires had reached here. No blood. No bodies.

He could almost pretend everyone had just left for a stroll through the forest and would be back shortly. Everything was in its place as if used recently. Now that he looked closer, there were even embers still burning in the firepit. That was enough to ease the knot of worry in his stomach and he pushed to his feet again, leaning harder into his cane as he made his way to the shrine, ignoring the urge to look for the others for the moment. They were alive, he had to believe that, and there was a more pressing issue he needed to take care of.

He followed the path out of the village deeper into the forest, surprised at how easy it was to know where to go despite only going to the shrine twice.

The soft gurgle of the spring and brook reached him before he broke through the last of the foliage, pausing near the steep steps along the bank to just listen. After the cacophony of the city and the eerie silence of the empty village, it was a welcome respite.

“Guang-Hong?”

He startled at the voice, turning to look into the opening of the tree roots. “Yuri!” He let out a shaky breath of relief at seeing a familiar face, slipping down the steps and losing his cane along the way in his haste to get down. “You’re okay! Where are the others?” He looked past Yuri as he reached him, grasping the kitsune’s arms with a frown as he spotted the kits tucked in next to Inari’s shrine, wrapped around each other and staring at him with wide eyes.

“They went to the other villages to help with the fires.”

“That was three days ago. You’ve been here this whole time?”

Yuri shook his head, pulling back and sinking down to sit with a grimace. “They come back at night, but there are still humans in the forest. They’re trying to track them down, and it’s safer to be near the shrine. Or it was.”

Guang-Hong glanced to the shrine, sensing the lack of power emanating from it. It _had_ been safer, before Inari had chosen to move his powers from the shrine to Guang-Hong. Now, this was little more than a death trap. “Are you okay?” he asked, crouching next to Yuri. He looked pale, like he had when he’d collapsed. His usual tidy blond hair was a mess, and dark circles were stark against his pale skin. He caught a glimpse of the vines coiled around Yuri’s wrist and he winced at the vibrant green that had turned black all the way up to his shoulder. One of the remaining leaves glowed orange as if on fire. “You need to rest.”

Yuri sneered and waved off Guang-Hong’s help, pressing a hand to his stomach and glancing towards the kits. “I’m fine.”

Guang-Hong sighed, knowing better than to push. He straightened and stepped towards the shrine instead, reaching out to lightly stroke each of the kits’ ears in turn. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured, before turning his attention to the fox statue. Something stirred inside him and he focused on that, trying to draw it out as he placed a hand on the fox’s chest.

The soft golden glow returned, far fainter than before, but enough he was able to collect it into an orb in his palm, pushing it into the statue. The lingering sensation of another mind pressed against his own vanished, leaving him dizzy. What little strength that remained in him went with it. He heard the kits scream as if from far away as the sensation of falling came over him. He had a moment to wonder how many times he was going to pass out as Yuri yelled curses at him, before his voice was swallowed by the cascade of water over his head, and then there was nothing but the blessed quiet of still waters to ease him into the dark.

He woke to the sound of quiet humming and fingers in his hair, a soft whine escaping as he shifted, pressing his face into the warmth beside him. He ignored the rumble of a laugh and burrowed closer, going still as someone nuzzled his ear. He cracked his eyes open and slowly tilted his head to look up, relief stealing his breath at the sight of Leo. “You’re alive.”

Leo smiled, his fingers continuing their soothing ministrations. “So are you... And you’ve sprouted.”

Guang-Hong blinked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t noticed?” he asked, sliding his fingers and slowly dragging them over Guang-Hong’s ear, only they were in the wrong spot and that felt _way_ too good to be an ear, and why did it feel like it was _twitching?_ He jumped as something shifted against his leg, scrambling out of the bed and standing next to it as he stared at the fluffy brown tail curled against his hip. The tail that was most definitely attached to his lower back. He made a strangled sort of sound as he hesitantly lifted his hands to his head and felt the two fluffy ears that matched Leo’s. “Oh gods,” he murmured, stumbling back as his legs started to give out.

Leo was at his side the next instant, wrapping strong arms around him and supporting his full weight. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Phichit and Viktor think they’re just a remnant of harboring Inari.”

Guang-Hong wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist, burying his face in the warm chest again and breathing in the familiar scent of him. “So they’re temporary?” He wasn’t sure if he was convinced of that, but the alternative...

“They might be,” Leo murmured, nuzzling into Guang-Hong’s ear. “Would it really be so bad if they weren’t?”

He flushed, refusing to look up as he actually considered the idea that Inari may have somehow changed him to a kitsune. At least somewhat. A gift, he’d said. Some gift. He pushed those thoughts aside to be dealt with later, lifting his head to look at Leo. “The others?”

“They’re fine. Everyone is fine except... Phichit exhausted himself keeping the first wave of humans from getting in, and he’s been pushing himself since.” He sighed and stepped back, loosening his hold on Guang-Hong. “And Seung-gil still isn’t back yet.”

Guang-Hong flinched at the mention of Seung-gil, taking a breath as he straightened, reluctantly pulling away from Leo. “Are they still here?”

Leo eyed him a moment, and Guang-Hong didn’t miss the way his eyes strayed to the fox ears Guang-Hong could feel flicking on top of his head. “Yeah, they’re here,” he said, his voice subdued.

Guang-Hong couldn’t let himself get distracted by his changes, or the way Leo seemed to have deflated. He’d lost too much time already, and he knew there would be time later to sort out what was between them. He offered a smile as he took Leo’s hand and squeezed, not letting go as he turned to leave.

Dusk had fallen while he slept, but the warmth of day still lingered. He heard the low sound of Chris singing as they approached the dining area, his stomach rumbling at the scent of cooking meat and vegetables.

When the others came into view, he saw Chris was the one cooking. The rest of them were spread out at the table, Yuri tucked back into Otabek’s chest as they straddled the bench, Viktor across from them holding Kenji who clung to his chest. Emil sat next to him, slumped over the table, a hand buried in his hair, streaks of red smeared into the soot covering his arms. Yuuri was next to him with Klara curled in his lap, staring at the table like it wasn’t even there. And across from him was Phichit, sitting with his legs crossed, his back against the table so he faced away from the others.

When he got close enough to see Phichit’s face, it was clear he already knew Seung-gil wasn’t coming back. It didn’t ease the sudden vice gripping his chest, and he squeezed Leo’s fingers as he took a shuddering breath, feeling the weight of the others’ gazes as they looked at him.

“The police have Popovich, and most of those he was working with...” he started, trailing off as he glanced to Phichit and found him still staring into the distance. “I... Seung-gil was-” he said, falling silent as Phichit’s gaze snapped to him, and suddenly he felt as though he'd stepped into a viper’s nest. He took another breath, fingers tightening to the point it had to be painful, but Leo remained silent beside him. The rest he had to say came out in a rush.

“Seung-gil was working with Popovich. He was after Inari’s heart, and he tried to kill me for it, and when I picked up my sword, Inari’s power... exploded and then Seung-gil was gone, and Inari took me to a pond and did something with his magic that nearly killed him, but I think it woke up the other gods to take his place, and...” He stopped to suck in a breath, falling silent when he saw the way Phichit’s closed-off expression fractured. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, flinching as Phichit pushed to his feet, picking up his staff before walking away.

The others remained silent, Chris approaching with a tray full of food and drink, handing it over.

Leo released his hand to take it and Guang-Hong’s eyes strayed back to the table, the way the others seemed so subdued, and Viktor and Yuuri sitting away from each other, resonating as _wrong._

“Go get some rest,” Chris murmured, resting a hand on Guang-Hong’s shoulder.

He looked up to see weariness and exhaustion in hazel eyes, reaching to grasp Chris’ wrist. “I can help.”

Chris smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “You have, but there's nothing left to do right now. The fires are out, and those who invaded are being dealt with by others.” He glanced to the others with a heavy sigh. “All we can do right now is rest and lick our wounds.” He looked back with a tired wink. “Go rest.”

Guang-Hong felt a flush creep up his neck, but he nodded and stepped back, falling into step beside Leo. They were silent as they returned to Leo's den, settling on the cushions in front of the empty fireplace. He shifted closer, pressing into Leo's side as he took the plate offered to him. “You're not hurt?” he asked softly.

Leo sighed. “No. Phichit’s spellwork was enough to keep them from getting into our village. We left to help the others when the fires started, and Otabek and his bear were able to hunt down any humans before they attacked us.” He paused as he picked at a chunk of meat, tearing it into tiny bits without eating any. “Yuuri and I ended up cornered while trying to put out a fire. I still don't know how they snuck up on us, but we would have likely been dead if not for the... wave of magic. It wasn't much, but it was enough to catch them off-guard and for us to get our weapons.”

His hands stilled as he glanced up at Guang-Hong. “I thought it was your magic,” he whispered. “It felt the same as when you healed me and I was sure you were dead -”

Guang-Hong whimpered, pushing his plate aside and shifting to his knees to wrap his arms around Leo's shoulders. “I'm not dead. I'm okay, I'm right here.” He pressed his face into Leo's neck, letting himself be pulled into the fox's lap as Leo held him close. “Told you I'd come back.”

Leo let out a weak laugh, his shoulders trembling as he tightened his hold. He slid a hand into Guang-Hong’s hair and found an ear, giving it a tweak that made Guang-Hong gasp before pulling back with a faint grin. “Wasn't quite expecting you to come back like this...”

Guang-Hong huffed, reaching up to tug at Leo's ear in retaliation, smirking at the yelp that earned. “Would you be... put off if they weren't temporary?” he asked softly.

Leo tilted his head, his touch gentling  into a caress on Guang-Hong’s ear. “Of course not,” he murmured. “You look good as a kitsune.”

Guang-Hong flushed, pressing close again and nuzzling into Leo's cheek. He pulled back with a laugh a moment later when his stomach grumbled.

“Why don't we eat and get some sleep?”

He nodded and slid out of Leo's lap.

They made quick work of the food, and then Leo took his hand to lead him back to the bed. Whatever was left for them to deal with could wait; he trusted Chris was right about the danger having passed.

He didn't think twice about curling into Leo's chest, smiling as arms and vines alike settled over him, and the light warmth of a tail pressed against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was rather cathartic to write, for reasons. RIP Seung-gil lol


End file.
